Hermione Singer - Legend
by mlr96
Summary: Many years ago, Bobby Singer met a woman who helped him move on from Karen's death. A year after the last time they've met, she shows up on his doorstep with a bundle in her arms. Now Bobby needs to learn how to raise a child, while she needs to handle more than the normal problems of growing up - Friendship, love and war.
1. In the Beggining

**A/N:**** Hey ya'll! I had the idea for this story a couple of nights ago, started writing to get it out of my head and it just flowted so I decided to start publishing it.**

**I will try to upload at least once a week but no guaranteed because my other story comes first, at least for now.**

**Story starts before Hogwarts, skips through moments of Hogwarts I thought would be important/had ideas for and will go through Supernatural, at least until season 6 maybe even later.**

**I'd like to thank Jay Nice for being the beta for this story.**

**Hope you'd like it!**

* * *

January 1980.

A tall woman stood at the doorstep of the breaking down house, a small package in her hands. She debated for a moment if she should just walk away, remembering the last time she'd met the resident of this house, but eventually decided to stop thinking about herself. Her doom was already known, and near.

She hastily knocked on the door, and waited for the man to open it. He frowned when he saw her.

"What do you want, Mar?" he growled, and she took comfort in the fact that he at the very least used her nickname, rather than calling her by her full name.

"Can't an old friend just visit, Bobby?" she asked, walking into the house without invitation. The war was taking away all of the strength she'd had, but seeing him brought back the little childhood left in her twenty-three year old form.

"Last time I saw you, I told you to never come back," he muttered.

"And I had full intentions of doing just that," she replied. "Alas, sometimes we cannot do as we please, but as we must."

Bobby took a moment to consider the woman in front of him as he followed her to his living room. She still sported a fine, British accent and a tall, proud frame, but she seemed different from the last time he'd seen her, nearly a year ago. She seemed… defeated somehow.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"War," she said. "One I seem to be on the losing side of."

"War?" he repeated. "Between… your… kind?"

Marlene smiled sadly. "Yes," she said. "A Wizarding War."

"And you came here for shelter?" he asked.

"No," she said simply. "I am not likely to survive to see the end of this world. Hiding here will do me no good other than to put you in danger." She looked into his eyes, which reflected the love she felt for him. A love he told her he no longer felt. "I'm not here for shelter…" she repeated. "Not for myself, at least."

She carefully handed him the small package in her arms and he took a moment to look at it.

"What in the name of…" he trailed off.

"Yours," she said. "Couldn't have been anyone else's." She looked longingly at the sleeping baby that was now in his hands. "Her birthday is on September 19th," she provided. "She just turned four months old last week. I am hunted," she added, causing him to look up at her, "and so is my entire family. Nobody knows about her existence other than myself and my parents, and now you."

"Mar…" he started but she cut him off.

"Let me finish," she said, tears in her voice. "Please. I will probably have no other chance to tell you this, and I want you to know it all. I'm sorry, for keeping it a secret from you for so long, and I'm sorry for all the other secrets I've kept from you. I was only trying to protect you from the darkness of my world, just as you tried to protect me from the darkness in yours. I hope for your forgiveness, and hope that you will one day understand why I did it all."

She leaned in and kissed him once, very softly, before turning and walking towards the door.

"Marlene!" Bobby called and she turned to look at him. "What's her name?"

"Hermione," she replied as she walked out of the house and apparated away.

"Hermione," Bobby repeated quietly. "Hermione Singer."

* * *

January 1986.

The young girl ran around the house, screaming with the pure joy of childhood as she enjoyed the feeling of her hair trailing behind her.

Bobby Singer looked at his six-year-old daughter. She was so young and naïve, still untouched by the evil of this world. The evil he hunted. The evil he tried with all his might to keep away from the clever kid, who had already started asking questions.

She had inherited her mother's curls, but his brown hair. She had her brown eyes, but his eye-shape. And she inherited all of her mother's expressions, starting with joy and ending with anger. Young and small as she might have been, when she was angry she made everybody in her surroundings shiver.

As she decided to take a leap down the stairs, Bobby realized she wasn't going to make it. He jumped from his place, the warning at the edge of his tongue, but she'd already jumped.

She stayed in the air longer than he thought she would—longer than she should have—and he knew it was yet another sign that her mother's powers had passed on to her. But he was ripped away from the thought when her landing still wasn't perfect and she called out in pain.

"Daddy!" she cried, and he picked her up, gently placing her on the couch and looking at her bleeding leg. Just a scratch, nothing more, but wounds like that always seem bigger.

"It's alright, Mya," Bobby soothed the girl, taking out some gauze and antiseptic and preparing a Band-Aid nearby. "It's gonna sting a bit, but then it'll get better. Are you ready?" She nodded. "Hold my hand against the pain."

He disinfected the wound and she squeezed his hand as he put on the Band-Aid, but recovered quickly afterwards.

"Not so bad any more, is it?" he asked, wiping away her tears.

"Not at all, Daddy," she replied, hugging him.

"Don't you do that again, would ya?" he asked. "Gave me the creeps for a moment there."

"I won't," she promised.

He gave her a short hug to reassure himself that she really was okay, when a knock was heard from the door.

Instantly, he was taken back to that moment nearly six years ago, when Marlene had knocked on the door and brought him what was yet to be the only real joy in his life since he lost Karen. He knew she couldn't be back – if she was still alive she would have returned long ago – but every time someone knocked, he couldn't help but hope.

He opened the door to see a man slightly younger than he was, standing on the threshold.

"Yes?" he asked grumpily as moments passed and the stranger said nothing.

"Are you Bobby Singer?" the man asked.

Bobby's hand tightened on the shotgun that was just outside of the man's sight. "Depends on who's asking," he said.

"My name is John," the man said. "John Winchester. Rufus told me about you, and he said you might be able to help me with a case I'm working on." He looked at something behind Bobby and when the older man looked as well, he found Hermione peeking out from behind his leg, torn between curiosity and shyness. "Rufus didn't mention you had a kid," John said mindlessly.

"Yeah, I'm kinda busy right now," Bobby said. "Sometimes it's best to wait until there's nobody listening," he explained quietly, looking at the girl at his feet. "Why don't you come back later tonight?"

"I can't," John said, gesturing at the car where Bobby could now see a kid around Hermione's age playing with a young toddler. "I don't like leaving my boys alone at night."

The look on Bobby's face immediately softened. "Why don't you all come inside?" he asked. "Mya would love to have some friends her own age to play with for a change, and we could talk without disturbance."

"Sure," John replied, and walked back to the car. "Dean," he said, causing the older boy to look up, "why don't you two come inside? I need to talk to someone and it's best if you don't wait in the car."

The kid, Dean, nodded and walked outside, leading his brother behind their father, and the trio came into the house.

The boys paused at the sight of Hermione, who was no longer hiding behind Bobby, but looking at them with undisguised curiosity. Though many strangers came to the Salvage Yard to speak with her dad, this was the first time any of them had brought kids. She hadn't known any kids other than those who went to school with her and bullied her for her bushy hair and slightly bigger-than-usual front teeth, but those two seemed nicer.

Seeing as none of them was going to introduce themselves, she stepped forward. "I'm Hermione," she said politely.

"I'm Dean," the older one said, "and this is my brother, Sam."

"Why don't you guys go to play outside?" her dad offered.

"Sure!" she said, and reached a hand to Dean. "Come on," she added when she saw he was not taking the offered hand, "there's plenty of place for hide-and-seek."

The boy looked up to his father, who nodded shortly, before taking the hand and letting Hermione lead them outside.

"Wow," he said when he saw all the cars.

"Like I said," Hermione repeated, "plenty of places to hide."

"I was talking about the cars," Dean mumbled, and Hermione laughed.

"I wasn't," she said. "Do you want to play?"

He looked at his brother cautiously. "Sammy's not old enough for hide-and-seek," he said.

Hermione thought for a moment. "What if you two play together against me?" she offered. "That way, all three of us can enjoy the game."

"Okay," Dean replied. "You count first."

"You've got until ten!" she warned before turning around and closing her eyes.

* * *

"Cute kids you've got out there," Bobby told John as the three kids walked outside.

"You too," John replied. "Does she know?"

"No," Bobby said with a frown. "Yours?"

"Dean does," John said, "but I'm trying to keep Sammy out of it if I can."

"Smart idea," Bobby said before taking two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, one for himself and one for his guest. "You said you need help?"

"I'm hunting something I think might be a Rugaru not far from here," John explained, "and Rufus said you might be able to help me find information about this thing."

"I think I might have a book with Rugarus here somewhere," Bobby replied, walking to his library and pulling out a worn book. "You know, if the hunt is nearby, I don't mind watching your kids for a couple of days."

"You don't?" John asked, surprised.

"They seem like nice kids." Bobby shrugged. "And Mya seems to like 'em. It would be nice if she'd have friends to play with."

"If that's the case, I'll hit the road straight away," John said. "Do you mind if I'll take the book with me?"

"Not at all." Bobby replied. "Bring it back when you pick 'em up."

They walked outside just in time to hear Hermione's victory call.

"Found ya!" she said gleefully. "Your turn!"

"Boys," John said as he saw his sons running behind Hermione, "come here for a moment, would you?"

The boys came to their father and Hermione followed and stood beside them.

"Don't go yet!" she called sadly. "You only just arrived!"

"I gotta go," John said. "But I also have some good news." The three kids looked at him expectantly, though Sam didn't seem to realize what was happening around him. "Would you two like to stay here for a couple of days while I'm away?"

The three kids' eyes lit with excitement.

"Yes!" Dean called out happily and Sam nodded to agree. He wasn't sure who this girl was, but she seemed nice and she smiled a lot, and Dean seemed to like her.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "Can they, Daddy? Please?"

"Of course they can, Mya," Bobby told his daughter with a smile before turning to John. "Why don't you go help them get their stuff from the car while we get a room ready for them?"

John nodded and helped his kids bring their bags to one of the rooms upstairs, just next to Hermione's, before walking back to the Impala.

"Dad!" Dean called, running after him and not stopping until he was in front of the much taller man. "You'll be back, won't you?"

"Of course I will," John told his elder son.

"Will you…" Dean looked embarrassed for asking, but kept on anyway. "Will you be back before next Friday?"

"I'll do my best," John replied. "But just in case I'm not—" He took a present out of the back seat of the car "—happy early birthday, Dean."

The young boy's face lit with excitement as he opened the present his father handed to him, finding a small black toy-car.

"It's the Impala," his father explained. "I know it's not much but—"

"It's amazing," Dean said, giving his father a short hug before adding politely, "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, kiddo." John said, ruffling his hair. "Why don't you go back inside and play with your new friend?"

Dean ran back into the house happily, and John drove away. He did miss Dean's seventh birthday after all, but when he returned he found out that Hermione managed to somehow get Dean to tell her it was his birthday, and insisted they do something to celebrate it. There was even cake and all.

He also found out that despite the fact that every night the kids went to sleep in different rooms, every morning Bobby found them all curled up on Dean and Sam's bed.

This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, he thought to himself, and decided that from now on whenever he had a case nearby, he would leave the boys at Bobby's.

* * *

**R&amp;R!**


	2. Truths Unravelled

**A/N:**** So I had a bit of extra time and saw all the nice reviews and the _ridiculus _amount of Favs and followers so I decided to treat you with a chapter. Hope you'd enjoy it. :)**

**Dixsclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural**

* * *

July 1991.

"I'm a _what_?"

Hermione looked at the British woman in front of her, the one who'd introduced herself as Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft and Wizardry_. The woman said that Hermione was a _witch_, as was she, and that she had been granted a place in the school since she was born.

"You're a witch, Miss Singer," Professor McGonagall replied calmly. "So was your mother, though neither of your grandparents nor your great-grandparents were. She attended Hogwarts herself, when she was your age."

Hermione turned to look at her father. "Did you know?" she asked him.

"I knew what your mother was," he admitted. "But I wasn't certain if you inherited it from her or not. Though I did suspect."

"And your speculations have been correct, Mr. Singer," Professor McGonagall replied, taking out an envelope out of her purse and handing it to Hermione. "Read it," she said.

Hermione looked at the envelope. In elegant, beautiful writing was written, "To Hermione Singer, Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota".

She opened the letter and looked inside. There was a letter, addressed to her and written by the woman in front of her, who appeared to be the Deputy Headmistress of the school. The letter explained that she had been accepted to that school she had never heard of, and that response needed to be delivered by August 1st which was only a week from now.

"If you choose to accept your registration of the school, there is a list of supplies attached," Professor McGonagall said. "I will escort you tomorrow to Diagon Alley, where you would be able to purchase those items."

Hermione's eyes scanned the supplies list, before looking up at her father.

"I ain't gonna tell you what to do," he said. "It's your choice."

"I want to go," she decided. "I want to go to that… Hogwarts place."

"Very well, then," Professor McGonagall said. "I shall be here tomorrow morning."

"Wait!" Hermione called. "Dean and Sam should be here tomorrow."

"They're her friends," Bobby explained in return to the witch's questioning look. "They don't visit very often."

"If you'd like to go today, it can be done," the Professor replied.

"Yes!" Hermione called happily.

"In that case, we should leave immediately. There is much to do and very little time," she looked at the child's father. "I presume we will return here during the early afternoon hours, due to time-zone changes."

"No problem, ma'am," Bobby said and Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the politeness she hardly ever saw in her father.

He walked the two witches outside and the older one reached into her bag and pulled out what seemed to be an old shoe.

"On my count of three, touch it," she told the young girl. "One, two, three." And the women disappeared in a twirling of lights.

Bobby sighed as he walked back into the house. His little girl was growing up faster than he wanted her to. In his mind, she was still the toddler who wasn't even tall enough to climb the steps, or the six-year-old who cried when she scratched her knee and needed him. And now she was going to that boarding school in _Scotland_, of all places.

She made her choice, he reminded himself. He told her she could do whatever she wanted, and she picked the odd world her mother came from. He can either make that trip with her, or be cast out.

And he was _not_ about to be cast out.

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, her feet crossed as she read into 'Hogwarts, A History', which she purchased the previous day during her trip to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall. The book was very interesting, and explained a great deal about the school she was about to attend, but as minutes passed by and she wondered when Sam and Dean would arrive, she couldn't concentrate.

She picked up her wand from the small night stand in her room, observing it. Ten and three quarters inches, made of vine wood and containing a string from a dragon's heart. The wand chooses the magician, the old wand-maker had told her, and this wand chose her. What does it mean?

From the floor underneath her, she thought she could just make out Bobby's screams, presumably on the phone.

"You know I don't do cases far away!" he called. "I'm not gonna just leave Mya alone!" There was silence for a couple of seconds before he added, "I know you do it all the time but I'm not you!"

Hermione slowly returned to wand to where it previously was and walked out her room. Quietly, she got downstairs and stood at the door to her father's library.

"I know," he was just saying. "I know, John." He sighed. "Fine. But as soon as this is over I'm taking all three of them with me. Mya's starting a new school soon and God knows if they'll get another chance to see each other. I'll see ya there. Bye."

He hung up the call and sighed, taking a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves and downing a glass.

"Dad?" she asked and he jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, sweetie." He smiled warmly at her, the anger gone from his features. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard screams so I came downstairs," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied. "I've got this case I need to work on with John, we'll be driving there soon. Get your bag ready, you'll probably spend the night with the boys at the motel."

"Okay," she said and walked back to her room, stuffing clothes into a bag.

By the time she returned downstairs, Bobby had his own bag ready, and they were off to the road. It was a rather long drive but Bobby made sure she spent every moment she was awake entertained, even though she didn't bring any of her books.

They parked outside a trashy-looking motel and walked to one of the rooms. Bobby knocked and within seconds, John opened the door.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," he said. "Come on, Mya, the boys are waiting."

"Mya!" two different voices called as she walked inside, and two sets of arms hugged her.

"Dean!" she called gleefully, hugging them back. "Sammy!"

"We need to get going," John said. "Boys, you know the drill."

"Don't open for anyone, don't leave the room and don't stay up too late," Dean recited and the adults left.

That night could have easily been the best night of her life so far. Dean and Sam ran jokes and played with her, they watched a movie and threw popcorn all over each other and when Sam fell asleep, Dean and Hermione stayed up for hours, doing nothing but talking.

"Dean?" she asked after a while, when they were both starting to drift off. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mya," Dean said. "Anything."

"Our dads…" she started, and then paused. "Do our fathers…" she tried again, and this time it seemed to work slightly better. "Do our fathers hunt monsters?"

Dean thought for a moment. "You should probably ask your dad," he finally said.

"But I'm not asking him," she replied. "I'm asking you. And you _did_ say I can ask _anything_."

Dean sighed a sigh that was too old for an eleven-year-old to make.

"Yes," he said. "They hunt monsters."

She nodded, more to herself rather than to him as things started to make sense. "What do they hunt?" she questioned.

"All sorts," Dean said. "Vampires, werewolves, demons, and some monsters I've never even heard of!" he exclaimed. "Oh, and one time, my dad hunted a _witch_." Hermione's blood froze in her veins. "An actual _witch_! Can you believe it? He's a superhero. Hermione?" he asked, seeing as his friend wasn't listening any more. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," the girl lied. "Just tired."

"Me too…" Dean said, yawning. "Goodnight, Mya."

"Goodnight, Dean," she replied, but her mind was somewhere else.

Dean said his dad hunted witches. Did her father ever hunt a witch? Would they hunt her, now?

The questions swirled in her mind as sleep finally found her.

* * *

August 1991.

Hermione pulled on the brave face. She laughed and played with Dean and Sam as if nothing was wrong, and didn't throw a second glance at her dad and John when she saw them.

Only a week later, when John took off with the boys again, she let herself break down.

At first, a shudder crossed through her body when she saw the Impala driving away. She knew there was no real reason to be scared of her father, but she still did. After the black car was out of sight, silent tears started dripping on Hermione's cheeks. Then, she started crying.

Bobby kneeled besides her, thinking she was crying because she had to say goodbye to her friends. He tried to calm her, telling her she would see them again, but it was no good. The child just kept weeping.

He took her in his arms and rocked her, whispering soothing words until she calmed down enough to tell him what happened.

"You hunt monsters!" she cried. "And Dean said that – that – that you hunt witche-e-es!"

Worry crossed the older man's face as he held his daughter in his arms.

"Not witches like you, Mya," he said. "Never witches like you. The witches I hunt are not natural witches – I made sure of that the moment I found out about your mother. The witches I hunt got their powers from demon deals, and they use it to hurt people. You," he repeated, trying to calm her down, "are not in any danger."

She sniffed her nose, taking ragged breaths and curling up on his chest until she calmed down. He slowly wiped the tears away from her face, kissing the top of her head.

"Could you tell me about Mom?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but eventually decided to do whatever he had to help her stay relaxed. "Her name was Marlene," he said. "Marlene Rogers. I met her when I was sixteen and she came to visit some family who lived not far from here. I was seeing Karen at the time," he said, gesturing at one of the pictures in the room, "so I didn't gave her much thought, but I met her again on a hunt a couple of months after Karen died. She took the pain away. And I took some of hers, though I didn't know it at the time.

"When I found out what she was, I was mad." He remembered. "I screamed at her, told her I never wanted to see her again. A year later, she appeared here, holding you in her hands. She told me to take care of you and disappeared. Only then I started researching about wand-carrying witches and wizards."

"She's dead now, isn't she?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Bobby admitted. "But I know that in the little time she was with you, she loved you very much."

* * *

**Thank you to all of the reviewers, it means a lot to me!**

**Canadian Harry Potter Fan: You were right on most of your guesses actually... Though Bobby's still gonna try to keep her a child as long as he can.**

**BrownEyesAngel: Sorry... It kinda is...**


	3. Hogwarts

**A/N:**** Chapter 3 is up, tell me how you like it!**

**By the way, I am shocked by the amount of love this story recieves, and I want to note out Winterburn3 for no reason other than the fact that you were the 100th (!) follower.**

* * *

September 1991.

"Everything's ready?" Bobby asked Hermione as she hopped down the stairs.

"Yep," she replied.

"Did you eat something?"

"Burger leftovers," she said, hiding a yawn.

They were told that the Hogwarts Express would depart at eleven am, and that someone was to arrive and pick her up an hour before. Due to the time differences, that meant Hermione needed to be ready to leave by four am.

"Get some sleep on the train," her father said. "School starts tomorrow and I don't want you to be too tired."

"I will," she promised, and kissed Bobby's cheek.

They sat on his couch, waiting, when the flames in the fireplace suddenly became green. Both of them jumped to their feet as a tall woman walked out.

"I am Madam Edgecombe from the Ministry of Magic," she presented herself. "I will escort you to the train today, seeing as it is your first time of using the Floo Network."

"The Floo Network?" Bobby repeated, confused.

"Travel by fireplace," Madam Edgecombe explained, taking a small bag filled with green powder and handing it to Hermione. "Take some," she ordered, and when the girl obliged, she guided her to the fireplace once more. "You need to be calm. Relax before throwing the powder into the fire and clearly stating the name of your destination – in this case, King's Cross Station. Close your eyes, and keep your elbows tucked in. I will follow shortly after, with your luggage. Understood?"

The young girl nodded and did as she was told. She threw the powder at the fireplace, amazed to see the flames changing its color to green once more, and called clearly, "King's Cross Station!" as she walked inside.

The fire immediately swirled around her, sending her away until she fell outside of a fireplace in a small room. She got to her feet and dusted her clothes off just in time to see Madam Edgecombe following her, by far more elegantly. The older witch escorted her to the train station, and helped her through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, before departing and leaving Hermione on her own.

The young girl managed to upload her belongings onto the train thanks to the help of two nice ginger twins, and when she turned to thank them, their eyes opened wide.

"Look at this George!" one of them called.

"Did you hear what I heard, Fred?" the other asked.

"It appears that –"

"– we've found ourselves –"

"- an American!" they called together.

Blush started rising up on Hermione's face. "Hey," she said. "Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Singer."

"Fred and George Weasley," one of the twins said.

"I'm George, that's Fred," the other said.

"You can tell the difference because I'm the handsome one," Fred winked and she rolled her eyes.

"I need to go find myself a car," she said. "Thank you again."

"Did you hear that, Fred?" George asked. "Cars instead of coaches. She even speaks American and all!"

Hermione laughed and left the twins to themselves, settling down in a car. Or a _coach_, whatever they call it over here. She took out one of her books and kept reading. It was the last book for her to read and she wanted to finish it all before the first day of school. She started drifting off when the car's door opened.

"Hello," a chubby boy said. "Did you happen to see a toad?"

"No, sorry," she said. "Do you want me to help you search?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and she returned the book to her bag and got up.

"You're American," he noted.

"And I have a lot more to me than just that," she laughed. "Hermione Singer, nice to meet ya."

"I'm Neville," the boy said. "Neville Longbottom."

They decided to split up across the train in order to cover more _coaches_ and Hermione started her journey. At some cars, they completely ignored her, some were nice enough to reply that they hadn't seen any frog, and on one of her last, she saw two boys around her age.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," one of them, who was ginger like the two who helped her, said rudely but she'd already lost concentration.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" she called, exited at the sight of his wand. "Let's see it, then."

She sat down and looked at the boy, who appeared to be a bit taken aback.

"Er – all right." He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened.

Hermione waited a second or two, checking that nothing was happening before asking, "Are you sure that's a real spell?" she asked, feeling slightly sorry for the boy. "It's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me." She was speaking very fast, as she always did when she was nervous. Dean used to laugh at her about it, and she usually joined in on the laugh but she was too stressed now. "Nobody in my family's magic at all, I mean, my mom was, but her family wasn't, and I never met her growing up. It was a real surprise when I got my letter, but 'course I was so happy, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, I just hope it will be enough." She swallowed nervously. "I'm Hermione Singer, by the way, and you are?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," the ginger said.

"I think I've met your brothers," Hermione said with a smile.

"Harry Potter," the other one said and before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to his forehead, where his signature scar was.

"You're Harry Potter?" she asked. "I know all about you! Bought a couple of extra books, for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!" She stopped herself from speaking further. If Dean saw the way she was rambling, he'd laugh at her for the rest of her life.

"Am I?" Harry asked.

"Don't you know?" she found herself saying despite her best efforts. "I'd find out everything I could if it were me. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking 'round, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, though I wonder what house my mom was in…" She trailed off for a moment, just long enough for Neville to mutter something about finding the toad and she sighed in relief that someone stopped her from talking any more.

They covered the rest of the train, together this time, but had no luck at finding the toad. When they finished their tour of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione sat back in her compartment and picked up her book.

"That," she muttered to herself, "was _so_ embarrassing."

* * *

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

They were left on their own for about ten minutes now, and the tension was building rapidly. There was no information whatsoever about the Sorting Ceremony, and she had no idea what to expect.

"Now, form a line and follow me," Professor McGonagall ordered and the first years obliged.

They walked back across the entrance hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, where everybody's attention seemed to be on them. Hermione never did liked being at the center of the attention. From her experience, it usually ended with someone making fun out of her, with the exception being Sam and Dean, of course.

She sighed nervously. What wouldn't she give to have them here with her? During the past five years, Sam became something of a younger brother to her, and Dean was now her best friend. Trying to distract herself from thoughts about her friends, Hermione watched the ceiling.

"It's charmed to look like the sky outside," she provided, more to herself more than to anybody else. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Nobody responded so Hermione followed the other students' gazes to the front of the room, where a ragged hat was place on a stool. To her surprise, the hat opened its "mouth", and sang:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, / But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find / A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black, / Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat / And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head / The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you / Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor, / Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry / Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff, / Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true / And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, / If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning, / Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin / You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means / To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid! / And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none) / for I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The Great Hall burst into applause and Hermione joined in, relieved. A Hat. She can put on a Hat.

Professor McGonagall started reading the names in an alphabetical order, and every student whose name she read walked forward and put the Hat on.

Some of them got sorted the moment the Hat touched their heads, while others sat on the stool for a couple of seconds. For them it must've felt like _years_.

When Harry's turn arrived, the Hat remained on his head for nearly a minute before he was sorted to Gryffindor, causing the entire table to roar happily. It wasn't long after, that her own turn arrived and she walked to the stool with what she hoped at least seemed like confidence. The Hat was placed over her head, blocking her view of the rest of the hall as it started talking again.

"My, my," the Hat said, "what do we have here? The daughter of a Hunter and a Witch? How did _that_ happened?" It chuckled to itself but must've sensed Hermione's wrecked nerves because it returned to "Business Mode". "I see many things in here. Clever and eager for knowledge. You'd make a fine Ravenclaw. But there are so many things you already know… too much for such a young girl but you seem to be taking it pretty well. I think you've proved to have earned being a GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat called the last word aloud and Professor McGonagall took it off Hermione's head, smiling at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat between Neville and yet another ginger.

"Percy Weasley," the ginger introduced himself. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," she replied with a smile, causing him to raise his brow.

"You're American," he said.

The smile drifted off her face and she turned around to keep watching the Sorting. Ron Weasley was also sorted into Gryffindor, along with a boy named Dean Thomas.

The name reminded her of home, where people spoke in a way she understood and nobody felt the need to remind her she was American, as the people here seemed to be doing.

Get yourself together! she ordered herself. The term hasn't even started, you can't let yourself get homesick.

When the Sorting ended, Professor McGonagall took the stool and the Hat away. The man who sat in the middle of the table and whom she recognized as Albus Dumbledore, stood up and caught everyone's attention.

"Welcome," he called in a calm, confident voice. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet –" Hermione needed to remember to check what that word meant "–I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down as food appeared on the table, and it took Hermione a moment to overcome the shock and start filling her plate.

When she was done, she asked Percy about the classes and they got carried into a discussion about Transfiguration ("Professor McGonagall's a tough teacher – but she's also fair."), Charms ("I tried the Levitation Spell at home and nearly got it, but got so excited about it that I dropped the book I was levitating...") and Potions ("Make sure to come prepared. Snape doesn't like Gryffindors and doesn't bother hiding it, so don't give him any excuses.").

When desserts arrived, she also joined the first years' conversation about their families.

"I'm half-and-half," a boy named Seamus said. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"My gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad," he finished and everybody laughed.

"My dad left my mum when I was a baby," the boy named Dean provided. "Mum's a Muggle but I don't know if he was a wizard. How 'bout you, Curls?" he asked Hermione who blushed at the nickname.

"Muggle dad, but mom was a Muggle-Born Witch," she replied. "She died when I was a baby, so I grew up as a Muggle. Only found out when I got my letter." She stopped talking when she saw everybody gaping at her. "What?" she asked.

"You're American," Dean said.

"And everybody here seems to think I don't know that," Hermione replied. "I'm American, so what?"

"So," Seamus said, "what're you doing here? Shouldn't you be attending Salem?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "They never spoke to me, so I just assumed I'll go here. Was born in Britain, so maybe that's the reason."

"Maybe," the group agreed and the conversation went on until the feast was over and they all went to the Gryffindor tower and settled in their rooms. Hermione wrote a letter to Bobby and reminded herself to go to the Owlery the next morning to send it.

Drifting to sleep, she thought to herself that this was gonna be a _very_ interesting year.


	4. Holidays

October 1991.

If Hermione thought even for one moment that Wizarding School would be nothing like regular school, she found herself mistaken very quickly.

Of course, the studying itself was very different as they studied subjects like Potions and History of Magic instead of Chemistry and regular History, and the whole structure of the school as a boarding school was nothing like her old school in Sioux Falls, but some things were at every school.

As she found out, bullies were one of them.

It wasn't the Slytherins who laughed at her hair, teeth and accent. She was used to this kind of bullies and knew how to ignore them very quickly. It was the ones who seemed nice that hurt her the most.

It all started in Charms class, morning of Halloween. They were put into pairs to practice the levitation spell, and Hermione was so excited about it, because she had already tried the spell a couple of times and nearly mastered it before school even started. She was paired with Ron, and when she heard him pronounce the spell wrong, she corrected it because it was a mistake she herself had made the same mistake first couple of times.

"You're saying it wrong," she told him. "It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the _'gar'_ nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," he snapped at her.

She raised her wand and cast the spell as she did many times before. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she called, causing the feather to rise above their desk.

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick called. "Everyone see here, Miss Singer's done it!"

Hermione looked down in shame at the table. She felt bad for embarrassing Ron like that, but there was nothing she could do about it now. When the lesson was over, she gathered her stuff and exited the class behind Ron and Harry. When they were out of any teacher's reach, she heard Ron mumbling in anger.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Hermione felt like daggers were cutting into her heart. She didn't have many friends at Hogwarts – none at all, actually – but to hear him say that no one liked her still hurt. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and she hurried towards the bathroom, accidently bumping into Harry as she did.

She closed herself inside one of the cells, crying over this odd school where she felt like she didn't belong, the homesickness that was getting harder with every day that passed and missing her only true friend, who was now miles away in America, probably watching over Sammy while John was on a hunt.

"Hermione?" she heard a familiar voice calling. "It's Parvati. Are you alright?"

"Just leave me alone!" she called through her tears. "I just wanna go home! What am I even doing here?"

Eventually, Parvaty left, but Hermione stayed, crying until she ran out of tears and then sobbing dryly even more. She wasn't sure what time it was, but was fairly certain that she was missing the Halloween dinner.

At home, Bobby used to escort her in trick-or-treating. He was afraid that she might get hurt, and was reluctant to let her stay outside so late, but the joy he saw on her face was worth it all, so he allowed that. Since Singer's Salvage Yard was distant from any other house, he used to take her out to the city of Sioux Falls, where she ran from door to door while he waited nearby.

When she was nine, Dean and Sam were staying at Bobby's for Halloween, and she made a great deal of picking their costumes and helping them get dressed. Sam was the cutest biker anyone had ever seen, Dean was a Cowboy and Hermione dressed like a fairy. After the hunt for treats was over, they poured it all on the bed in the boys' room, and shared the sweets between them all.

The memory brought a sad smile to her face, and she walked out of the bathroom door to wash her face. As she neared the mirror, she noticed a figure standing not far behind her, and shrieked as she recognized it from one of her books.

"Hermione!" she could hear two voices calling at once, but was too scared to pay attention.

She backed away from it, sticking to the opposite wall just as the door opened and Harry and Ron ran inside. Harry threw something on one of the walls, causing the troll to stop a few feet from Hermione and look around. When it saw Harry, it headed towards him but stopped again when Ron threw a metal pipe at it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at her as he pulled her toward the door, but she was so petrified she couldn't move. Hell of a Gryffindor was she.

They kept throwing things at the troll, confusing him and causing him to change his target time after time, until Ron shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and the troll's club fell on his head.

Hermione came to her senses, walking towards them and arriving just in time to see Harry taking his wand out of the troll's nose, where he stuck it earlier.

"I told you," she mumbled towards Ron. "Not such a difficult spell if you pronounce it as you should."

They stood there for a moment before they heard footsteps rushing towards them, and the bathroom door opened to reveal Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell. Already used to lying to the authorities for her dad from time to time, Hermione invented a cover story which caused McGonagall to take five points away from Gryffindor for her behavior, but to add ten for Harry and Ron's rescue.

After the story was covered and they were back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione decided that maybe this school wasn't so bad after all. Especially now that she had finally made her first friends here.

* * *

December 1991.

Dean and Hermione fell on the couch in Bobby's house that evening, after running and playing outside all afternoon long. It has been four days since Hermione arrived home for Christmas, and nearly a week since John left the boys at Bobby's house while he went on a hunt a couple of towns over.

Hermione, Dean and Sam enjoyed their reunion, though the boys presence made it significantly more complicated for Hermione to arrive back home. Instead of using the Floo Network, she had to use Portkey to arrive at the magical transportation station nearest her house and Bobby had to pick her up from there.

"I'm so tired," Hermione said.

"Me too," Dean agreed.

"What were you two doing?" Bobby asked them with a smile.

"We raced to the tree-line and back," Hermione said.

Bobby's smile drifted off his face. "How many times I told you two to stay away from the woods?" he asked severely. "You know how dangerous it is!" His voice dropped to a whisper so that Sam, who was doing his homework in the kitchen, wouldn't hear. "You know what's out there."

"Sorry, daddy," Hermione whispered, looking down in shame.

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby," Dean muttered.

"It's alright," Bobby said, "just make sure it's the last time, will ya?" The kids nodded. "Help me set up the table, then."

They set up the small table for four people, and Dean had just gone upstairs to call Sammy out from the shower when Hermione remembered a question she'd wanted to ask her father, but forgotten.

"Daddy," she started, "have you ever heard of a man named Nicolas Flamel? I saw the name while reading, and it sounded familiar but I don't know where from."

"The name doesn't ring any bells," Bobby replied, "but I'll look into it, and let you know if anything pops up."

The boys came back downstairs and they all sat down for dinner, after which Bobby insisted they would all go to sleep. The trio laid on Sam and Dean's bed, and fell asleep right away.

The next morning, the three kids woke up to the realization that it's Christmas morning. They jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, where a pile of presents was placed.

"Come on," Bobby said. "Open 'em up."

"Shouldn't we wait for dad?" Dean asked.

"Your dad's not gonna make it this year, boys." Just like last year, Bobby thought but didn't say it. "He did buy you some presents. Open them first." he added and handed over two boxes.

The boys opened the presents to find a plastic gun for Dean and a new book for Sam, both of which Hermione was certain she saw around the house already during the summer, when she was at home before going to Hogwarts. In addition, they got a couple of new toys from Bobby, and two boxes of Every Flavor Beans from Hermione, one for each.

"Are they really every flavor?" Dean asked and Hermione nodded.

"I ate a dirt-flavored one on my first try." She giggled and the boys tasted.

"Strawberry!" Sam called happily.

"Ugh," Dean said with a smile. "I think this one's ear wax. Thanks, Mya."

"Sure," she replied and moved to open her own presents. She got some sweets from 'John', a book from her dad and a hand-made card from Sam before she noticed two more presents, addressed to her and with small cards.

The first one was from Ron. Or, at least, Ron's mother. "I wasn't sure how many presents you will get," the note said, "and the way I know my son, he probably didn't buy you anything so I made you some homemade fudge."

"Who's that from?" Bobby asked.

"Ron's mom," Hermione replied, smiling.

"Who's Ron?" Dean asked.

"One of my friends at the new school," she said. "That means the other one must be from Harry!"

The note on the second package was a simple one, saying "Merry Christmas" and wishing her a happy holiday. Inside was a beautiful ostrich-feather quill Hermione knew she'd use to write him a reply.

She stood up, ready to go and write it immediately, but was disturbed by Dean who cleared his throat.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, handing her a poorly wrapped box.

She took it and slowly opened it up, finding the small, black car his father had given him for his birthday nearly five years ago.

"I know you're all far away in Scotland and probably missing us, so I thought this would remind you of us when we're not there," he said shyly and Hermione jumped at him with a hug.

Out of all the presents she got that Christmas, Dean's present was the one she cherished most.


	5. Summer

**A/N:**** Sorry for the little delay but hey, the new chapter is here!**

**Thank you again so much for all your love, you have _no _idea how much I appreciate it!**

**Dark Balance - You said you're borrowing someone else's data, but I still wanted to say: I always felt kinda bad for how Harry and Ron treated Hermione before they all became friends (And sometimes afterwards) and it was very important to pass all those feelings, because they were really unfair towards her. So I'm just glad you liked it :)**

* * *

June 1992.

Hermione sighed as she fell on the bed in her room at Bobby's house. The last few days of the school year were tiring and intense, and she was starting to get homesick from being so far away for so long. It was nice to be back where people were speaking normally.

As she laid down on the bed, she couldn't help but think about the adventure she'd been through. Playing flute to a three-headed dog, saving Harry and Ron from the Devil's Trap plant, seeing Ron being knocked unconsciousness and trying to decipher the riddle to make sure neither her nor Harry are poisoned before having to leave him alone to fight Quirrell.

Obviously, she couldn't tell anybody about it – Dean and Sam because she will have to reveal the fact that she's magic and her father because he will never let her back to Hogwarts if he knew. But it didn't change the fact that it was _fun_.

She knew she shouldn't think that – they could've been killed – but there was something about it she couldn't help but love. The adrenaline flowing through her veins, the excitement at solving the riddle. The only part that made her feel odd was Dumbledore telling the entire school about it, and everyone watching her with awe. She still _hated_ being at the center of attention.

She leaned against her pillow and just closed her eyes when the door burst open and someone jumped on her.

"You're back!" Dean called, squishing her into a hug and not even letting her get up, return it or breathe.

"Mya!" Sam called, jumping on top of Dean and making her fear for her bed.

"Help!" she called back, her voice hoarse. "Can't… breathe…"

"Sorry!" Dean said, getting off her and dropping Sam to the floor as he did. "How are you?"

"Much better now," Hermione replied with a smile.

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing me just has that effect on people."

"I think she meant better now that she's at home," Sam noted, and Dean smacked him over the head.

Hermione smacked Dean in return, Sam stick out his tongue and soon enough the three kids were rolling in a bundle of arms and feet on Hermione's bed. They were interrupted by Bobby's voice calling from downstairs.

"Dinner's ready!"

Hermione and Sam exchanged mischievous looks, and as if on cue, they jumped to their feet and ran downstairs, leaving Dean alone in Hermione's room.

"Thanks a lot for waiting!" he told them when he was downstairs.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied innocently and sat at the table.

They ate in full set that night. Not only were the boys there, but it was also one of those rare occasions when John joined the meal.

Even though as she grew up, Hermione liked John less and less, seeing the way he treated his children as if they were soldiers rather than kids, she also saw the way Sam smiled a bit brighter and Dean sat a bit taller when he was there. They adored him, and loved him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. For their sake, Hermione put up with John on the rare occasions he was there.

For Sam and Dean's sake, Hermione would put up with _anybody_.

"So how's your fancy school in Scotland?" John asked. His tone wasn't unfriendly, but she couldn't fail to notice the coldness in it.

By the looks of it, Bobby didn't fail to notice it, either.

"The school is fine," she said politely. "It's really interesting, I'm learning loads of new things."

Dean chuckled lightly. "Only you and Sam can be excited about _learning_," he said, stretching the final word and making it sound like something bad.

"Oh, hush," she laughed. "It really is exciting."

"What do you learn?" Sam asked.

"Well…" Hermione thought for a moment, before phrasing her reply in a way that would not tell the boys the truth of her being a witch. "I'm learning a lot about chemistry," she said, thinking that Potions and Chemistry aren't all that different. "And plants." Yup, Herbology counts as learning about plants. "And many other interesting things."

"I'm glad you like it," John said, more kindly this time.

"How was your year?" she asked Dean.

"Loads of fun," he said. "Dad said I could join him on one of his –" he looked at Sammy carefully, "business trips in a couple of months."

"Really?" she asked, excited for him. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. I know how long you've wanted it."

John sent her an approving glance while Bobby huffed in disagreement. If someone knew anything about them, they could clearly see the matter was already up for discussion, and that the two men had extremely different opinions about it.

Hermione knew both of them a lot, so she changed the matter on hand by asking Sammy how's he doing at school. The kid happily started rambling about second grade Math classes, and the look on Bobby's face softened.

She knew how to say just the right things, he thought, and felt a ping of sadness as he remembered once again how much like her mother she was.

* * *

August 1992.

"Remember," Hermione told her father, "Ron's family are all magical, so they don't know much about muggle life. So if –"

"– any of them asks me 'bout electricity, I should be nice." He completed the sentence she told him a thousand times already. "I know, Mya. Relax."

"Okay." She said, preparing the small bag of Floo powder she'd received at the end of the previous year. "Here goes nothing."

She stepped into the fire, clearly calling 'Diagon Alley' and swirling inside the flames until she reached her destination. She dusted her clothes and turned to help Bobby out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron.

"We should go to Gringotts first," she said. "We could exchange some of our money to Wizard currency and then we'll go buy me some books.

He nodded, feeling certain she knew what to do better than him as he took in the place around them.

It was extraordinary. All of those people, who shared the same gift as Mya and Mar, and nobody looked twice about it. If anything, more people looked at him in curiosity, and he thought that non-magical were probably just as rare here as wizards and witches were in the world he knew.

They walked through the main street, and he tried not to stare too long at any of the shops, before they reached the fanciest building Bobby had ever seen.

"Gringotts," Hermione clarified, and he tore his eyes from the building only to look at her.

"That's…" he mumbled.

"I know," she said with a smile.

She walked with him to one of the counters but got bored rather easily, so she walked outside, leaving him to talk alone with the goblin.

Friggin' _goblins_.

It wasn't long after he finished exchanging the money and looking around for Hermione, that she ran back inside, accompanied by what appeared to be a pack of redheads and a black haired boy with glasses.

"Daddy, I want you to meet Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, two friends of mine from school," she said. "Ron, Harry, this is Bobby, my dad."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said politely.

"Nice to meet you," Ron added. He looked as if he was trying not to stare at Bobby just as much as Bobby tried not to stare at everything else.

The introduction, however, was cut off by who seemed to be Ron's father.

"But you're a Muggle!" he called delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" he told his wife, who sighed heavily and sent Bobby an apologetic look as she led them all towards one of the back doors.

"Meet you back here," Ron said, and Hermione was left alone with her father once more.

"They're going down to the vaults," she said. "That's where most wizards keep their money. There's a whole area underground, where thousands of vaults are connected by rails."

She kept talking about the vaults underneath London, but Bobby was only half listening. He was so amazed by everything he was being introduced to, and thought of how different it was than what he imagined so far.

Once the Weasleys were back outside, Hermione stopped her lecture. She went to speak to her two friends, and Bobby smiled softly at seeing how belonged she seemed, before he was interrupted by Mr. Weasley, who insisted on them going for a drink.

"We're only to meet the rest in an hour at Flourish and Blotts," he said, causing Bobby to look at his daughter, confused.

"The bookstore!" she said excitedly, and Bobby smiled once again.

"Are you sure it's okay with you, Mya?" he asked.

"No problem!" she said, waving him off and heading out with her friends.

"So," Mr. Weasley said, "you're a Muggle!"

"Er…" Bobby said hastily, not sure how to respond, before Mr. Weasley cut him off.

"I don't know where to even start!" he called. "There's so much I want to ask you! What do you do for a living?"

"I'm an engineer," Bobby lied. "Works with cars and stuff."

"How fascinating," Mr. Weasley said. "I have a car myself," he told him proudly. "Of course, I made a few small changes. Enlarged its insides, made it fly, the whole deal."

"Fly?" Bobby repeated.

"Oh, yes." Mr. Weasley said. "My wife wasn't so happy about it, to be honest, but what can I say?"

"Er…"

"How did you get here?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I think it's called, 'The Floo Network'?" Bobby asked uncertainly.

"Oh, you Flooed?" he asked. "Where are you from?"

Bobby felt more and more like this was an interrogation, but he knew it was only curiosity speaking, and he promised Hermione he'd be nice. At least nobody asked him about _electricity_.

"We live in Sioux Falls," he said. "It's a small town in South Dakota. We'll probably head back there soon, an old friend of mine should be dropping by and I keep getting confused by the time differences."

"Oh, yes, we really should head back to Flourish and Blotts," Mr. Weasley said, glancing at his watch. "Been a real pleasure talking to you, Mr. Singer."

"Likewise." Bobby said politely, and the duo headed back into the alley and towards the bookstore.

* * *

Bobby and Hermione walked out of the fireplace and into their living room, talking and laughing.

"I really can't believe Mr. Weasley punched him!" Hermione called out, smiling.

"Me neither," Bobby said. "He didn't look like he had it in him."

"I guess you should never judge by first impression," she told him, and he smiled at her.

They were both interrupted by a cough from the doorway. Bobby looked up to see Rufus standing there.

"Go to your room," he told Hermione.

"No," Rufus said dangerously. "Stay."

"Room," Bobby repeated, eyeing the other hunter carefully. "Now."

Hermione didn't need to be told again. Not looking back, she ran upstairs and locked herself in her room, before putting her ear at the floor and trying to eavesdrop.

"You're early," Bobby said.

"Finished the case sooner than I'd thought," Rufus said. "I called to tell you, but you weren't available." He eyed Bobby for a moment. "Anything you'd like to tell me?"

Bobby sighed. "Please, hear me out," he said. "Ever heard of wand-carrying witches and wizards?"

"Urban legend," Rufus said.

"Well, most people call ghosts and vamps urban legends, too," Bobby said. "Doesn't make them any less real."

"Come on," Rufus said. "You want me to believe that there are natural born witches out there?"

"I didn't believe it, too," Bobby told him. "But that little girl upstairs grew up here. I've known her since she was four months old. And, no, she didn't sell her soul for her magic. It just appeared."

"Bull."

"She's twelve years old," Bobby said. "She grew up under this roof. Do you really think I'd let it happen to her? Do you really think I'd keep a witch in my house if she was one of those demon bitches?"

"People do crazy things for their kids," Rufus insisted.

"You've known her since before she could remember," Bobby said. "You helped me raise her, for crying out loud. Look me in the eye and tell me you believe she'd do something like that."

The two hunters looked at each other for a moment, but Rufus was the first to look away, silently.

"Didn't think you could," Bobby mumbled.

"Is her power under control?" Rufus questioned.

"Remember that school she's attending in Scotland?" Bobby asked. "Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. There's a whole community of them, there."

Rufus nodded shortly, before looking up at the ceiling. "You can come downstairs now, Mya!" he called.

The young girl walked downstairs hastily, and stood behind her father as she eyed the other man.

"Aren't you gonna give your Uncle Rufus a hug?" he asked. "Maybe later you could even tell me about that school of yours."

Hermione's eyes shone with excitement as she ran towards Rufus and launched herself on his neck. Behind her, the two hunters exchanged understanding looks, coming to the decision Hermione's status as a witch should stay a secret.

Hunters are too well known for shooting first and not asking questions later.


	6. Changes

**A/N:**** So sorry for not uplaoding... I have this big test coming and didn't have time to write and then to upload.**

**Thank you very much for all of those who are sticking with me and I want to note akirakurosawa for no reason other than being the 200th (!) follower for this story, and to thank again for Jay Nice for being my beta.**

**Here you go with getting Hermione a little bit more into hunting and some Dean/Hermione cuteness!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

July 1993.

That year was by far the weirdest, scariest, _worst_ year in Hermione's life. And being the daughter of a hunter, that means something.

It wasn't even the whole danger in school – although that did play a big part – it was the months she spent petrified. Most people didn't understand, but she was awake all that time. Unable to speak, to respond or to sleep, just spending hours glaring into air and hearing the conversations around you.

So when she got off the Hogwarts Express and saw Bobby waiting for her at the station, she didn't even think, only ran to him and hugged him.

"Hey, kiddo," he laughed. "I'm excited to see you, too. What's that for?"

"I just missed you," she said, trying very hard not to burst into tears in front of him, her friends and the Weasleys.

"I missed you, too," he told her. "You didn't write to me since around March!"

"Sorry," she said. "Got caught up at school work, it just skipped my mind."

A small, insignificant lie. Of course that wasn't the real reason she didn't write to him, and of course she didn't forget about him while she was petrified.

But she couldn't let him know the real reason because he might not allow her to return to Hogwarts next year, and she couldn't let that happen.

She also couldn't let herself be so helpless again. She knew she needed to learn how to protect herself, how to protect Harry, Ron, and anyone who might pass by.

So after a couple of days back home, after she thought about it thoroughly and reached her decision, she found herself standing at the kitchen in her house, waiting for her father to notice she was there.

"Hey, Mya," he smiled when he saw her. "D'you need anything?"

"No," she said. "Well, yes. Well, no. I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Bobby said, wary of his daughter's behavior. "What is it?"

"Can-you-teach-me-to-hunt?"

"What?" Bobby asked.

"I…" Hermione took a deep breath. "I want you to teach me how to hunt."

Bobby frowned. Where is that coming from?

"I wanna know how to hunt," she said. "Dean's my age and he's hunting, and even Sammy knows about the world now."

She was serious, he realized. She was really asking this. "No."

"Dad!" she called out.

"No way," Bobby insisted. "You will not be a hunter."

"I don't want to _be_ a hunter," she said. "I just want to know how to hunt. For protection, daddy. I promise I won't be a hunter."

"I don't like it," he growled.

"But can you please do it? For me?" she pouted, looking at him with big, round eyes.

"Damn it," Bobby mumbled, causing Hermione to squeal with joy.

"Thank you!" she called, hugging him. "You're the best! Oh, and can I have a cat?"

Bobby sighed into the hug. He wanted to keep her away from this life for as long as he could – possibly even forever – but now he had no other choice. All that was left to do was hope she would be okay.

And what the hell was that cat thing?

During the course of the next couple of weeks, Bobby trained Hermione.

She spent hours memorizing books upon books about monsters, and then hours answering Bobby's questions about everything that bumped in the night. She compared notes between Bobby's books and her schoolbooks, and her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay doubled its length.

But after they were done with the theory, Bobby had no choice other than to start physical trainings. She went on a jog each day on the main road between the salvage yard and the town, practiced at throwing knives and hitting targets, and one day, Bobby arranged a surprise for her.

She was sitting in her room, rereading her Transfiguration essay to make sure she didn't miss anything, when a voice called out.

"Guess who's here!" it said.

"Dean!" she squealed, running downstairs and jumping on her best friend.

"Hey, Mya!" he said, smiling and returning the hug as he sank into the familiarity of this one constant in his life.

Living on the road, constantly changing schools and never knowing how long he would stay at one place, Dean didn't allow himself to get attached to people. His father and Sammy were the exceptions of that rule, along with Bobby whenever they passed by and Hermione during the holidays.

He knew she had those new friends at the new school, and that she might not consider him her best friend any more, but he knew that as long as the promised summer vacation at Bobby's house was there, she would be his.

He had nobody else.

"Guess what we are doing today," he told her, smiling.

"I'm not sure if we can go away," she said worryingly. "Daddy said that I will learn how to use a gun today."

"That I did," Bobby said, smiling at the due from the doorway. "And guess who your teacher will be?"

"No way!" she called out in excitement, looking at Dean's smug face. "Really?"

"Really!" he told her, taking her hand and running outside. "Come on!"

The two young teenagers ran outside, and Bobby took a moment to observe the way Dean was looking at Hermione. The boy was already fourteen, and Hermione will be, too, in September. The both of them would start noticing the other gender members soon enough, and when they will, how long would it be before they noticed each other?

He sighed as he shook his head and went back inside, where a very upset, hurt ten-year-old Sam was sitting at the table and refusing to speak to anybody.

* * *

When Dean finished teaching Hermione how to handle a weapon – something he has been doing for years already – and the two of them were done with hitting empty beer bottles they set on the cars, they decided to go back inside.

All it took was one look on their smiling faces for Sam to run upstairs without as much as saying 'hello' to Hermione, whom he hadn't seen in a year.

"What happened to Sammy?" she asked Dean.

"He found out the truth about what dad was doing," Dean replied. "He's mad that we kept it a secret from him all this time. He hasn't said a word to either of us in weeks."

"We came here because I thought Bobby might be able to cool him down," John said in frustration. "It doesn't seem to be working so far."

"Do you mind if I go and talk to him?" Hermione asked.

"Go ahead," John said. "He's probably in the boys' room."

Hermione nodded and walked to the top floor, knocking on the door to the room where Dean and Sam slept whenever they were visiting.

"Go away," said a grumpy voice from inside.

"Must I?" she asked in her best British accent. "But, dear me, I was hoping so bad you can help me, my dear lad!"

Sam opened the door, shock clear in his features. "Mya?" he asked. "What happened to you?"

"Well, it all started during the school year," she told him. "I had the British Flu."

"The British Flu?" the younger boy asked.

"Well, of course, my dear," she said, dead serious. "It's like a normal flu, only instead of making you ill, it's making you British! Our school nurse had managed to stop it before it came to its full affects, but it was still very severe."

"It could have been worse?" Sam asked.

"If she hadn't cured it in time, I would have gone full on Mary Poppins!" Hermione exclaimed, before bursting into laughter.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Sam asked, distressed. "You didn't become British, did you? I don't want you to be Mary Poppins!"

"It's alright, Sammy," Hermione said, back to her normal accent. "I didn't get any British Flu."

"What?" he asked, angry. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Because you needed to understand that not all lies are bad," she replied calmly. "Your dad and brother didn't lie to you to hurt you. They lied to you to keep you safe for as long as they could."

"But they still did," he said.

"You think finding out when you're ten years old is bad?" she asked him. "I was nearly twelve when I found out. And it wasn't even my dad who told me – I found out from Dean."

"I did, too," he told her. "Dad didn't want to tell me, but Dean said I had a right to know."

"Of course you do," she said. "But how do you repay Dean for telling you the truth? Ignoring him! That's not very nice of you, now, is it?"

He frowned for a while longer. "You and Dean played without me today," he said.

"You wouldn't come outside," she retorted. "And besides, we didn't _play_. Dean was teaching me to use a gun."

Sam frowned. "Dad will probably want me to join you tomorrow," he said.

Hermione smiled mischievously. "Leave that to me."

* * *

Dean couldn't tear his eyes off Hermione during the entire dinner. How she managed, in less than ten minutes, to do what he and his dad had failed to do in weeks was beyond him.

Sam was speaking again – more than that, even. He was laughing and smiling and cooperative, until John suggested that maybe tomorrow he could Dean and Hermione at target practice.

Sam's face immediately fell.

"Actually," Hermione quickly said, "if you don't mind, I wanted to take Dean to the city tomorrow."

Dean's heart jumped in his chest. Hermione – his best friend, Mya – wanted to spend the whole day with him? That was just too good to let his father ruin.

"Could we?" he asked. "Please, Dad, could we?"

John looked at Bobby, who shrugged as if to say he didn't care, before he turned back to his elder son.

"You could teach Sammy another day," he said, and Dean nearly fell off his seat with joy.

"There are so many things I want you to see!" Hermione told him, excited. "There's this library – though you wouldn't enjoy there, I guess – and this place where they've got the best cheeseburgers you will ever eat, and…"

She kept saying all the places she wanted to take him, but Dean wasn't listening anymore. A foolish smile was stuck on his face as he just stared at Hermione, who was rattling on and on about this chocolate ice cream.

Neither of them knew it back then, but at that moment, Dean Winchester fell hopelessly in love with Hermione Singer.

* * *

**So what do you think? Review and let me know!**


	7. Back to School

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I didn't forget about you, I'm just swamped with my studies and my other story... I hope you'd like this and that I will post the next chapter soon.**

**By the way, _AmyRenee55_ \- My 100th favorite. It's just amazing how much love I get for this story, it means a lot to me and I love you all back!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

September – December 1993.

Going back to school, Hermione now realized why Rufus was so wary of her, as well as why her father sent her mother away when he found out what she was.

With her new hunter perspective, everything – starting with the creatures they learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures and ending with the ghosts that were _everywhere_ – seemed like a threat. And having a werewolf as her professor certainly didn't help.

It took her all of one month to recognize the symptoms of him being a werewolf. The way he was always ill and missing classes close to the full moon, and his Boggart turning not into a crystal ball as everyone thought, but into the moon at the night of a transformation. She had to admit that Lupin was an exceptionally good teacher, and after the task Professor Snape gave them, she had learned about the Wolfsbane Potion and came to the realization that Dumbledore must be making sure he's taking it.

She was less nervous about it than she thought she would be, but she still kept an eye on him, and had taken a habit of carrying a silver knife around. Can't be too careful, can you?

The beginning of that year was hard. After the events of the previous year, Hermione needed her friends by her side, but when her new cat, Crookshanks, did what every other cat would do and tried to hunt Scabbers – Ron's rat – her friends turned against her.

Things were getting worse by the day with the three of them, and she let herself sink into the work overload that came from taking more subjects than her timetable could fit. She used her time turner regularly, living nearly every day twice and sometimes even three times. She was exhausted to a level she didn't even know was possible, and was waiting impatiently to go back home for the Christmas break when a letter came in from her father.

_Mya,_

_I'm following a hunt with Rufus and it seems to be more complicated than we thought. Do you mind staying the break at Hogwarts?_

_Send answer when you can,_

_Love, Dad._

_PS – Sam and Dean told me to send you hugs._

She felt a sting of pain in her heart at the thought of staying in Gryffindor tower with nobody but Ron and Harry, but then thought about it as an opportunity to mend things with them. It surely couldn't get any worse than it already was.

How mistaken has she been.

The Firebolt – the _stupid_ Firebolt that someone sent Harry.

"Because I thought – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that the broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!" she justified her actions, unwilling to apologize.

She would never apologize for doing what she thought was best in order to keep those she loved safe.

Hermione busied herself in schoolwork yet again, thinking back to the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts. She didn't realize it, but she didn't really have any friends other than Harry and Ron. To the rest of their class, she was nothing but an annoying know-it-all.

So she comforted herself with that one last line in the letter, scribbled as an afterthought but meaning the world to her.

_Dean told me to send you hugs._

She didn't know what to think about Dean just yet. She cared a lot about him, but she wasn't certain if just as a friend or something more than that. Did he even like her as something more than that? She wasn't sure how anybody could.

She wasn't particularly pretty and her personality certainly wasn't the best, as her fellow students never failed to mention. Dean was constantly moving from town to town, he probably met dozens of other girls – prettier girls – and she wasn't a fool to think he would stop to think about her before dating another. Why would he? It wasn't as if something was going on between them. Did she want something to go on between them? Did he?

The thoughts swirled in her mind every night before she passed out from sheer exhaustion, if nothing else, and every night she came to the same conclusion.

I'm just fooling myself, she thought. Dean would never want me.

* * *

June 1994.

The last day of tests in Hermione's third year of Hogwarts was the most stressful day in a very stressful year.

Unlike her friends, who only had two exams that day, Hermione had had three, all at same hour, and she had to use her time turner to arrive to all of them. By the time she reached her DADA test, the last one she had, she was utterly exhausted.

Professor Lupin arranged an obstacle course for them, which consisted of fighting Grindylows, Red Caps and Hinkypunks and facing a Boggart.

She passed the first three obstacles without blinking before entering the box where the Boggart was waiting for her. She was nervous, seeing as she hadn't faced a Boggart before and couldn't guess what shape it would take. After a moment or two of silence, she saw someone approaching her.

Dean. That was odd. She wasn't scared of Dean, why would her Boggart take his form? But then she noticed that small detail that differed the Boggart from her real friend.

"Ri –" she stuttered. "Riddikulus!"

The Boggart hadn't as much as flinched. He was still walking towards her, only now her father accompanied him.

"Riddikulus?" she asked more than said, uncertain with herself, and suddenly Sam and John were heading in her direction, too. All four of them sporting pitch-black eyes.

Hermione did the first thing that came to her mind, dropping her wand and chanting verses in Latin to keep them away. All it did was make the Boggart laugh.

"We've got you now," Demon-Dean said.

"You've got nowhere to run," Demon-Bobby added.

"No!" she screamed. "No! Help me!"

And suddenly Professor Lupin was there, standing between her and the Boggart which now transferred into a silvery full moon. He helped her out to where Harry and Ron were waiting, worried.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"P- P- Professor McGonagall," Hermione stuttered a lie. "Sh- She said I failed everything!"

Harry and Ron laughed at that but Lupin didn't, and though he didn't tell on her lie she could still feel his eyes on her back for the rest of the exam.

Later that day, they were inside the shrieking shack; Harry, Ron, herself, and Sirius Black.

Harry had just charged on Black, the older man overpowered him and held him by the throat. Hermione jumped at him, kicking his face with a movement she and Dean had practiced during the summer when Crookshanks – the cat she had gotten for her birthday – had joined the fighting, scratching his way through.

Harry jumped and took hold of the wand Black disarmed earlier, screaming for her to get out of the way. She moved aside and Harry pointed the tip of his wand at the mass murderer in the room.

They had started talking, Sirius trying to get Harry to listen to him but Harry refusing, accusing him of killing his parents. Repeating parts of conversations they had had during the year, about Black selling Lily and James to Voldemort, about Harry hearing his mother begging to Voldemort not to kill him every time the Dementors are coming.

Hermione looked at the exchange, satisfied at the bleeding nose and black eye she given Black. He deserved it. He deserved it all and everything that was coming, but she knew Harry wouldn't kill him.

She knew that even if it came to him or them, Harry might not be able to do it. He was too good for that, too naïve.

She, on the other hand…

Her thoughts were disturbed when she heard footsteps coming their way.

"We're up here!" she screamed. "We're up here! Sirius Black! _Quick_!"

Professor Lupin came, barging in, looking at the scene for less than a second before disarming Harry and Hermione yet again. His gaze returned to Black.

"Well, well, Sirius," he said. "Looking rather ragged, aren't we? Finally, the flesh  
reflects the madness within."

"Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you?" Black questioned, before the duo hugged.

"_I don't believe it!_" Hermione screamed. Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. "You…" she stuttered. "You and him!"

"Hermione, calm down…"

But she had already pulled the knife out of her boot. "I didn't tell anyone!" she shrieked. "I've been covering up for you!"

Lupin's gaze fixed on the knife as he swallowed. "Silver, I presume?"

"Damn straight," Hermione said.

"So I didn't imagine it about your Boggart today, after all," he mused. "A hunter in Hogwarts."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"No!" Hermione screamed, angry at the man she'd been trusting all year long. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too. He's a werewolf!"

Lupin looked at them all calmly, before saying, "Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid." The look in his eyes was almost mocking in Hermione's opinion. "I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead. But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron moved on the bed and Lupin stepped towards him, but Hermione held her knife at him.

"Get away from him, _werewolf_!"

"How long have you known?" Lupin questioned, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.

"Since the first full moon of the year," she said. "I learned it all during the summer, so it was really piece of cake. You didn't even do such a great job at hiding it. And when Snape gave that essay –"

"He'll be delighted," Lupin said, almost mockingly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said, causing Lupin to force a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are! Or, better yet, use some of what I was taught over the summer."

Lupin eyed the silver knife carefully as Hermione raised it higher into the air. "Let's be careful with that now," he said slowly. "Somebody might get hurt."

"That's half the point," Hermione replied. "Give me _one_ reason not to."

"Because I can explain," he said. "And because by the looks of it, your friends also deserve an explanation."

Hermione looked from the corner of her eye at Harry and Ron, who looked startled from seeing their best friend the way she was the past couple of minutes. Slowly, she stepped backwards and looked at Lupin with anticipation, playing with the knife in her hand.

"Be careful," Black said, worryingly but she waved the warning away.

Lupin returned their wands to them and started explaining his story, of how he was bitten as a child, how Dumbledore found a way for him to attend Hogwarts and how his friends turned Animagi so he won't be alone. As the story went on, Hermione felt a tinge of pain, thinking that all werewolves had stories like that – families, people they loved.

She pushed the thought away from her head quickly. They were monsters. That's what she was taught.

Professor Snape interrupted the conversation, and they disarmed him, knocking him unconscious as they did, before Lupin turned to look at Hermione.

"Your turn," was all he said but Hermione took a deep breath before turning to her best friends and revealing the secret of who she truly was, on her father's side, at least.


	8. Truths and Lies

**A/N:**** Wow. I don't think I can ever form into words how much I love you guys.**

**Dark Balance - There _will_ be a couple of small diversions on Canon, but not much. For example - Dean and Sam aren't going to be finding the truth about Hermione soon. (I have that entirely planned in my head and that is not now.) But anyway, I'm glad you like the story and hope you keep enjoying it :)**

**attlantica - To be honest, I didn't plan on actually writing the scene where Hermione is explaining everything to Ron and Harry... Until I read your review and thought, "What the heck, let's do it." So I hope you will like what it turned out to be.**

**AnnaOxford - See what was written to attlantica and notice that I _did_ put those differences in the chapter, mainly because you mentioned them, so thank you.**

**MidnightPenguin - Dean/Hermione moments just for you.**

**Everybody else - Even though I didn't have anything to respond in particular to your reviews, I still do appriciate them and I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

June 1994.

"My dad is what's commonly called a Hunter," Hermione began. "He's been doing this most of his life, ever since a demon possessed Karen."

"Karen?" Harry asked.

"His wife," she replied.

"Your mother?" Lupin questioned.

"No," Hermione said, eyeing the werewolf carefully. "My parents weren't married, and my mom wasn't even in the picture back then. The demon possessed Karen and attacked my dad and he… he had no choice other than to kill her. Rufus came. He was a young hunter back then. He helped Dad to hide the body and taught him everything he knew, and Dad became a hunter, too."

"But… what _is_ a hunter?" Ron asked.

"Hunters hunt supernatural beings," Hermione explained. "Vengeful spirits, demons, monsters you've never even heard of – Rugarus, Wendigoes." She sent a worried look at Lupin and Black. "Werewolves and Skinwalkers."

"What's a Skinwalker?" Harry asked, having not missed the look Hermione sent towards his godfather.

"Skinwalkers can turn into animals – into _dogs_, more specifically," she said. "Distant cousins of non-magical werewolves."

"And your dad _hunts_ those things?"

"Not just him," Hermione said. "Rufus is like an uncle to me, John and his boys Dean and Sammy come to visit every summer. Dad once sent me to the Roadhouse for a weekend – it's a bar for hunters."

"And they all hunt creatures?" Ron asked.

"Non-magical creatures, yes," Hermione said.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Hunters who know about the magical world know what an Animagus is, and know they can come in all kinds of animal shapes," she explained. "They know the differences between magical and regular werewolves, and none of them would try to hunt any of the ghosts in the castle. They –"

"They know about wand-carriers," Lupin cut her off, "and about the difference between us and witches who got their power from demons. How many of those do you know, Hermione?"

Hermione looked down in shame. "Two," she replied. "My dad and Rufus."

"And what do you think any other hunter would do to if they found out what you were?" Lupin asked. "You know how trigger happy hunters can be. How many witches do you think John has killed? Or Rufus and your dad before they learned the truth? What do you think all the nice hunters at the Roadhouse would do to _you_ –"

"Stop!" Hermione called, the knife in her shaking hand pointed at her professor's chest.

"That's just what most wizards think about hunters, Hermione," Black said, clearly trying to calm the distressed witch. "It's exactly the same kind of prejudice as the one against werewolves."

"It's different," she said, her voice shaking.

"Why?" Lupin asked calmly, unintimidated by the weapon his student was pointing at him. "Because one of them is your family and the other is a creature your family taught you to hate?"

Tears were now openly streaming down Hermione's face as the knife dropped to the floor. She stumbled back until she fell on the bed Ron was laying on and the redhead rubbed circles on her back as she silently cried.

"We got away from the point," Harry told them. "I still don't believe what you're saying."

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Lupin replied. "You, boy, give me Peter, please. Now."

* * *

When Hermione got off the train and ran to hug her father, he was less than pleased to say the least.

"You gave a _convicted murderer_ our home address?" he asked her in disbelief. "A convicted murderer who can _turn into a dog_?"

Hermione shrugged. "Will it help if I'd say he was framed by a man who can turn into a rat?" she asked.

"Not really!" Bobby said.

"Well, he's my best friend's godfather," she said. "And they all know I'm a hunter now. Well, that you're a hunter."

"You're not making it any better," he replied. "Why the hell would you do something like that?"

"Because he had nowhere else to go," Hermione said. "Come on, Daddy, you wouldn't let a homeless man who was framed for a murder he didn't commit and is on the run be caught, would you?"

"You told him our home address!" Bobby said. "He appeared from the middle of nowhere last night, on a flying bird-horse!"

"They're called Hippogriffs, Daddy," she said. "And they have very fragile honor, so I wouldn't let him hear you call him like that, or he might attack. That's actually why Sirius took him. He was sentenced to death because some idiot student wouldn't listen."

"A murderous, honorable, flying bird-horse on the run with a shape-shifter convicted murderer who is the godfather of your best friend," Bobby repeated.

"That pretty much sums it up," Hermione said. "Oh, and he's not a shape-shifter, he's an Animagus."

"You'll be the death of me one day, you know that?"

"I really hope I won't," Hermione said. "I wouldn't want you dead anytime soon. Or at all."

They flooed home, where Sirius was sitting on the couch, reading the most recent Daily Prophet. He looked much better now that he took a shower and cut most of his beard off, but he still had the haunted look in his eyes Hermione saw the night she and Harry let him go.

_"Go to America," she'd told him. "Search for Singer's Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My dad will let you in once you told him I sent you, but only come when he's alone, and leave Buckbeak in the woods next to the forest."_

_"Are you sure?" Sirius had asked her as Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Helping a convicted –"_

_"I'm not going to leave you with nowhere to go," Hermione said severely. "Just… stay safe, will you?"_

"Put that thing away!" Bobby called, ripping Hermione away from the memory. "It has _moving pictures_ in it and I'm supposed to have company soon!"

"Who's coming?" Hermione asked, excited.

"Who d'you think?" Bobby asked. "I'm actually surprised Dean didn't run away just to arrive here sooner."

"Don't be silly," Hermione told her father. "Dean wouldn't leave Sammy alone for ten seconds."

"Um…" Sirius looked confused. "Dean and Sammy?" he asked.

"They're my best friends here in the States," Hermione explained.

"And their dad's a hunter," Bobby said. "And _none of them_ knows about your kind of magic, so would you please put that damn newspaper away?"

Sirius folded the newspaper and went upstairs to put it away, and Bobby turned back to his daughter.

"John needs a help with a nest not far away," he said. "I'll join him and the boys will be here. Sirius" – he said the name as if it were some kind of a curse – "will be here to keep an eye on you and the boys, and you'll need to keep an eye on _him_. He doesn't seem very… understanding when it comes to electricity. He jumped in fear when the toaster worked this morning."

"You need to remember he's a pureblood wizard," Hermione said softly. "And that he was in a prison positioned on an isolated island for the past thirteen years."

"Yeah, yeah," her father said. "But keep an eye on him, will ya?"

"You know I will, Daddy," Hermione said. "Now, when will the boys be here?"

The father and daughter spent the next couple of hours unpacking her bag and talking, as Hermione recounted a very censored edition of all she went through during the past year.

She told him about the fight with Harry and Ron, about Buckbeak and Malfoy and Sirius's story. She _forgot_ to mention that she had been using a time-turner to arrive to all of her classes, and the fact that her DADA teacher was a werewolf _slipped out of her mind_, a notion that Sirius didn't miss. He did, however, have the brains not to mention it, seeing as she was the main reason Bobby hadn't kicked him out yet.

Hours had passed and the evening arrived, bringing three tired-looking Winchesters along with it. Bobby and John hit the road, not before a quiet argument about the stranger that was supposed to keep an eye on their children, and Sam fell asleep on the bed right away. Sirius sat in the kitchen, reading a book about shape-shifters while Dean and Hermione watched a movie marathon – with the combination of popcorn and licorice.

Around two on the morning, Sirius took his eyes off the book. He would never admit it – and especially not when Moony was around – but he actually quite enjoyed a good book from time to time. He looked at the sleeping teenagers on the sofa, who fell asleep a couple of hours earlier, and shut the TV down, covered them with a blanket and took the popcorn bowl away.

As he crossed the living room again, wondering where he was to sleep since the sofa was taken, he saw Hermione turning in her sleep.

_She was back at the grounds of Hogwarts, moments after Professor Lupin's transformation. He didn't take his potion – he was dangerous and she had to protect her friends. Launching at him with her silver knife, she had managed to hurt him enough so that he would back away from her, just as howling was heard from the forest._

_She was at the forest, watching herself fighting the werewolf. Doing the only thing she could think of, she howled, causing the monster to come running her was. Hermione and Harry ran through the trees, the werewolf closing in on them. He was getting closer and closer when suddenly –_

"Hermione!"

She woke up with a start to the sound of her name being called and somebody shaking her. Opening her eyes, she saw Dean and Sirius both looking at her with worry.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I… just a nightmare," she mumbled.

"What about?" Sirius questioned.

"Werewolves," Hermione whispered and the look on the older wizard's face suddenly became more understanding.

"Dean, take 'Mione up, would you?" he asked the teenager who nodded, wrapping an arm around his best friend.

"Let's go to bed," he said, and all of the sudden Hermione realized he was fifteen already.

It had been nearly ten years since they met, and during that time, he had grown taller, stronger. He was practically carrying her up the stairs to her room. When he put her on her bed, her breathing was back to normal and he looked at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Can you just..." She hesitated for less than a moment. "Can you stay?"

"Of course," Dean replied, lying next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist.

It was so hard for him to see her having a nightmare. She was so scared, and there was nothing he could do about it. So he hugged her tight and let her fall asleep with her head on his chest, attempting to protect her if he could.

It wasn't until after she fell asleep that he finished the sentence he began earlier.

"Anything for you."


	9. Cats and Dogs

**A/N:**** I am so sorry it took me this long to update! I just had a bit of trouble writing this chapter and then I was sure I sent it to my beta (The amazing Jay Nice) and I didn't, and I only found out right before I published and then I didnt have any time...**

**But here you go, hope you'd like it!**

**As usual, thank you to all of the reviewers, favs and followers, every time I see it it just makes my day.**

**TtylerMaria - Sam has just turned eleven, which means if he was going to Hogwarts that would be the coming year... Might be interesting to write but not in this story, sorry!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

June – July 1994.

The next morning, Hermione and Dean were awaken at a ridiculously early hour by a hyperactive ginger cat, who didn't seem to be so pleased with the way his owner had been neglecting him since they came back here. It climbed on the bed, scratching her legs and sitting on Dean's chest. The duo immediately woke up, and the cat fell onto Dean's lap where it curled.

"Who's that?" Dean asked with a smile once he realized the situation.

"That's Crookshanks," Hermione said. "My cat."

"Since when do you have a cat?" Dean questioned.

"Birthday present from my dad," she told him shortly. "Isn't he adorable?"

"He is kinda cute," Dean said, scratching behind the cat's ears.

"He likes you," Hermione smiled. "That's a new one. He's not very friendly."

"How can that," he marked at the big ball of fur in his lap, "not count as friendly?"

"He only likes Sirius, you and me," Hermione said. "He barely gets along with Harry, _despises_ Ron and spent the whole of yesterday scratching my dad."

"They just don't know to appreciate him," Dean said, causing Crookshanks to hum in appreciation. "Let's go downstairs."

As if he heard him, Crookshanks climbed off Dean's lap and headed out of the room and towards the stairs. When Hermione and Dean arrived at the kitchen, they found him curled in Sirius's lap, much to the discomfort of the older man.

"I'll make us some breakfast," Hermione offered.

"I'll go wake Sammy up," Dean said, turning to get out of the kitchen.

"Dean!" Hermione called after him and he turned to her. "Can you please…" She hesitated. "Can you not tell my dad about my nightmare last night?"

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't want him to think I can't handle it," Hermione said, her heart aching at the lie she just told her best friend. "If he knew I was having nightmares he might stop the training and…"

"Don't worry," Dean said. "Your secret is safe with me."

He turned and left the room, and Hermione sighed, opening the fridge and trying to decide what breakfast should they eat today. Just as she decided on pancakes, Sirius spoke from behind her.

"You lie an awful lot, do you know that?" he asked.

"Said the convicted murderer on the run," Hermione commented.

"Framed convicted murderer," Sirius corrected her. "I've never done what I was accused of. You, on the other hand –"

"I am the reason you have a roof above your head at the moment," Hermione reminded him as she cooked. "So if I were you, I'd be careful with what I said."

"Not taken and gratitude applied," Sirius told her. "But you can't hide it forever. They're bound to find out one day."

"Then I will do everything I can to make sure that day will be in the _very_ distant future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have pancakes to make," she added, clearly sending him away.

The day went on without further problems. Dean and Hermione were talking and laughing, Sammy was reading books and Sirius simply sat in the sun, enjoying the freedom he now had after thirteen years and only moving after a couple of hours to feed Buckbeak – not that Dean or Sam knew that, of course.

Around dinnertime, Bobby and John returned. Apparently, the hunt was easier than they expected it to be, but John and the boys were still planning to stay a while longer. Sirius insisted on making them all dinner, wanting to leave a good impression on Bobby and John, and Hermione volunteered to set the table.

An hour and a half later, spaghetti bolognese was served, being the only dish Sirius actually knew how to make. Conversation flowed during the meal, until John decided enough was enough.

"So," he said, faking casualty, "what were you imprisoned for?"

Silence fell over the table. Dean and Sammy stopped their discussion but kept their eyes on the food as to not appear rude, and Bobby and Hermione visibly tensed, a fact that John wasn't unaware of. Sirius, however, remained calm.

"Treason," he said simply, causing Dean to choke on his pasta. "I was framed, of course," he added. "The _real_ traitor blew up a whole street before running away." He took a gulp of water before calmly adding, "As a mouse."

This time, it was John's turn to choke on his food.

"A mouse?" he asked.

"A _rat_, to be exact," Sirius replied, ignoring the shocked faces of the three Winchesters.

"And how, exactly, did you meet Mya?" Dean asked when he rediscovered his ability to speak.

Sirius couldn't help but smile at the protectiveness in the teenager's voice. Even at fifteen, he had it hard for her, and he didn't even know it! And, by the looks of it, neither did she.

"I'm godfather to one of her best friends at the school," Sirius said, carefully choosing his words but still speaking fluently enough so that nobody would think he's trying to hide something. "After I broke out, I went there to make sure he was safe. Told them the truth, got caught and he and Hermione busted me out."

"So you just came here, all the way from Scotland?" John questioned suspiciously.

"Wasn't as easy as you make it sound, mind you," Sirius told him. "Luckily, my old headmaster believed I was telling the truth so he pulled a couple of strings. The old man still has a lot of influence."

Hermione looked at Sirius with awe. He had just managed to tell the whole of his story without once mentioning magic, time-turners, werewolves, Voldemort or the fact that he's an Animagus that can change into a dog. She had to admit that she was impressed.

"I owe him quite a lot," Sirius went on. "Not as much as I owe Hermione, though. Getting me out, her and Bobby letting me stay here… she saved my life."

"Of course she did," Sam said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That's what Hermione does. She helps people."

Hermione's face turned a shade of red that would embarrass any Weasley's hair. Right at this point, mercifully, Crookshanks decided to go to sleep – on Dean's lap.

"Since when do you have a cat?" John questioned.

"Since Hermione asked for one as a birthday present," Bobby replied. "The little devil."

"Don't speak to him like that!" Hermione said, annoyed. "That attitude is _exactly_ the reason he doesn't like you, you know."

"He doesn't like me because he doesn't like anybody," Bobby said.

"He likes Mya," Dean retorted. "And he likes Sirius and me. He's cute," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Certainly better than _dogs_." He sent a meaningful look at Sam's direction.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as the younger boy pouted and started defending his favorite animal, and Bobby was certain he didn't imagine Crookshanks opening a single eye and looking at Sirius, sending him a victorious glare.

_It's gonna be a long summer_, he thought, sighing to himself.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading. It had been three days since Dean and Sam left again, and she'd spent most of her time either in the woods with Buckbeak or reading hunting books in her room.

It was nearing dinnertime, and she thought she knew what her father was calling her for.

"Yes, Daddy?" she asked as innocently as she could muster.

"Get down here, please," Bobby replied.

The teenager walked down the stairs trying to keep the smile off her face as she saw the figure that stood next to her father.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," she told the guest. "Where's Sirius?"

"I believe he went to another room so he could stop himself from bursting into laughter," Lupin replied.

"I see," she said, biting her lip and wondering if maybe she could join him. "You've met my dad, I believe?"

"He has," Bobby said. "Care to explain why you invited your professor –"

"Former professor," Lupin couldn't help but correct.

"– _Former_ professor over to dinner?" he finished the sentence.

"Well, many wizards have the wrong idea about hunters," Hermione replied. "I thought we can try and work on that and maybe even… learn something ourselves, while we're at it."

From behind the old hunter, Lupin smiled proudly, but Bobby looked straight at his daughter.

"Why didn't you ask me first?"

"So that you couldn't say 'No'," she said simply.

"I think I will join Sirius at the other room," Lupin said.

"Just one more thing," Bobby said, causing the werewolf to stop as both he and the teenager looked at him expectantly. "Any reason his name meaning is basically 'Werewolf McWerewolf?"

"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said. "To give you a headache, of course."

Lupin let out a relieved sigh and Bobby shook his head in disbelief as they both followed the young witch towards the kitchen where Sirius was setting up a table for four.

Bobby couldn't help but notice he made sure there was nothing made of silver on the table.

"If I'd known you didn't ask Bobby, I wouldn't have helped you," Sirius whispered to Hermione.

"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you," she replied.

"I am truly sorry for coming uninvited like that," Lupin said. "I was certain Hermione spoke to you."

"Mya's always been the kind who'd rather say sorry than ask and risk getting a 'no'," Bobby said. "And I keep making the mistake of forgiving her."

"Don't be mean," Hermione scolded, and both Lupin and Sirius had to bite their tongue as to not laugh at the teenager scolding her father, rather than the other way around.

"She really is something special," Lupin added. "Brightest witch of her age."

"More than that, even," Sirius said. "I don't think I've ever met someone like her. Except for Lene, maybe."

"Pads, I know you dated her, but Lene was a blonde bimbo. Mind my language," he added, looking at Hermione and Bobby worriedly.

"I've heard worse," Hermione shrugged.

"She has," Bobby sighed.

"Not McKinnon!" Sirius said. "The other one… she was a fourth year when we were first years, you remember her! Rogers!" he finally called. "Marlene Rogers."

Both Bobby and Hermione dropped their forks and looked at him with identical looks of surprise on their faces.

"You knew Mar?" Bobby asked.

"Marlene Rogers, Gryffindor, black, curly hair and a look that would make McGonagall cave?" Lupin asked.

"That's the one," Bobby said.

"How in Merlin's name do you know Lene?" Sirius asked, amused.

"She's my mother," Hermione whispered. "My mom was a Gryffindor?"

"Bravest one I've ever seen," Sirius told her. "She was pretty good friends with the Prewett twins – the three of them always helped when Slytherins cornered me."

"She died at the war," Lupin added and Bobby nodded. He'd suspected that much. "Voldemort came after her himself. She never stood a chance."

"I remember that case," Sirius replied. "I was an Auror – like the police – and James and I were first on the scene. Her parents, her younger brothers – they were dead and so was she, but so were three Death Eaters. She defended her family singlehandedly and fought bravely. It was the end of January 1980."

"Couldn't've been more than a week after she brought you here," Bobby mumbled, tears shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he added. "For telling us."

"No problem," Sirius said.

"Anything," Lupin added.

Hermione sat silently for another couple of seconds before getting up and giving her father a long hug.


	10. The Yule Ball

**A/N:**** Sorry for the long time without any updates but I don't have school for another week and a half and I promise I will post another chapter by then.**

**Love you all and thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

September – December 1994.

Going back to school was different for Hermione than it was for Harry or Ron. Harry never liked it at his aunt and uncle's house, and Hogwarts was the only home he ever knew - it was the first time he felt as if he belonged. And Ron had so many family members at Hogwarts it was like being at home for him, he was never alone.

Hermione, however, was.

She did have Harry and Ron at Hogwarts, but all of her other friends were left behind. She terribly missed Dean and Sam, Bobby and even John. And at the beginning of her fourth year, she also missed Sirius.

The Animagus became an integral part of her life during the summer, sometimes laughing with her, occasionally teasing her. They would sit for hours upon hours, patting Buckbeak or discussing one thing or another they read on one of the books in Bobby's library.

She agreed to come to the Quidditch World Cup mostly for Harry and Ron's sake, as she herself didn't like Quidditch all that much, and she had to admit it was indeed fun. She had also bonded with Ginny during her time at the Burrow, which was only expected since the two shared a room.

But as the Triwizard Tournament had begun and Harry and Ron stopped talking to each other, she suddenly felt alone again.

It was a different kind of loneliness than it was last year or during her first year at Hogwarts. She wasn't really alone, she was speaking to both Harry and Ron, but they weren't speaking to _each other_. And that was what made the whole difference.

After the first task – in which she could barely breathe, she was so scared for Harry's safety – Ron seemed to realize that Harry was _not_, after all, the one who put his name into the Goblet of Fire. The two best friends were speaking again, and Hermione felt pleased.

That is, of course, until Professor McGonagall informed them that the Yule Ball will be taking place in Hogwarts this year.

"Dress robes will be worn," McGonagall said, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall."

Harry told them that dates should be brought to the Ball, and Hermione couldn't help but feel something twitch inside her. The next day, she stayed after class to speak to her favorite professor.

"Yes, Miss Singer?" McGonagall asked.

"I was just wondering," Hermione said uncertainly, "if there is, by any chance, an option to bring to the ball someone who isn't… enrolled as a student here," she finished carefully.

"A friend from home?" McGonagall asked and Hermione nodded. "A muggle?" Hermione nodded again, starting to think this was a bad idea. "I am sorry, Miss Singer, but there is no such option. Is there not anybody here at the school you might be interested in?"

"There are," Hermione said, ashamed, "but… I don't think any of them would like to go with me. Thank you, anyway. I should head to class." And with that, she exited the classroom as soon as she could, not even realizing it was lunch until she reached the Great Hall.

She didn't feel like eating. She didn't feel like anything, to say the truth. She knew it might be okay for boys to arrive at the Ball without a date, but not for her.

Slowly, she walked to the library where she opened her Potions book, not even reading what was in it.

She shouldn't have asked Professor McGonagall about bringing a date. She felt so embarrassed and ashamed – why did she ever think she could bring Dean to the Ball and even if she could, why would he want to be with her?

She was nothing more than an obnoxious, bookworm, know-it-all that nobody liked, as if anyone would want to –

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

She raised her head at the sound of a heavy accent, meeting the eyes of the famous Victor Krum. Usually, she left the library as soon as she saw him coming, as his fans were unbearable and disturbed her studying. But she wasn't doing much studying today as it was, and it would be awfully rude to get up and walk away when he was this close to her.

"Not at all," she said, clearing some of her books to allow him to sit. She returned her eyes to the book, but still couldn't focus on reading it. Everything was just too much.

"I'm Victor," the boy – no, definitely a man – next to her introduced himself.

"I know," she said, cracking a smile. "It seemed like everybody knows."

"Everybody knows I'm Victor _Krum_," he said, empathizing his last name. "People forget I am just Victor sometimes."

Her small smile turned face-wide by now. "I'm Hermione," she told him. "Hermione Singer."

"I've been seeing you here sometimes," he said. "You are a lot vith Potter and your other friend."

"Ron," she supplied.

"Are you…" He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "Are you _vith_ Ron or Potter?"

Blush started rising unto Hermione's cheeks. "No," she said shyly.

"So you are not going to the Ball vith any of them?"

By then, Hermione was completely and entirely red in the face, hoping that nobody she knew would come into the library and thanking everything she held dear that she chose an empty corner.

"No," she repeated, finding it rather hard to speak all of a sudden.

"Vould you…" He hesitated again. "Vould you like to go vith me?"

"I would love that," she said shyly.

Victor was smiling as well now. "Great," he said happily. "I vill pick you up from the Entrance Hall the night of the prom."

He stood up and walked away, not before curtsying politely, and Hermione was left sitting baffled at the table, the Potions essay long forgotten as all she could think was, "Did this really happen right now?"

* * *

_Dad,_

_I'm sorry I wasn't there for Christmas, but between the Tournament and everything else that's going on, pretty much everybody stayed so I decided to stay as well._

_The Yule Ball was so amazing, I just had so much fun! You'll never believe who asked me out – Victor Krum! He's the Quidditch player I told you about, the Bulgarian one. He's also Durmstrang's Champion. I'm usually not into sports so bad, but he was really nice and so shy it was actually cute, so I said yes and I had so much fun._

_Colin, one of the students here, took about a million photos of the Ball and I asked him to develop one of them with Muggle instruments so I can send it to you. He did, and I attached it, in case you didn't see._

_I met Snuffles the other day. He's at the cages next to the school and I probably shouldn't have told you that but never mind. Harry was really happy to see him here, and that's all that matters. He asked me to let you know he's fine, even though, as he said it, "As much as I hate Bobby's cooking, I'll take that over what I'm eating lately."_

_I hope everything's alright back home, and that if it wasn't, you'd tell me. I miss everybody._

_Wish Dean a happy birthday for me, and tell him that he got it easy because if I were there, he'd get a full on Sweet Sixteen. With a lot of pink things._

_Don't let Dean do anything stupid when he's hunting, and don't let John do anything stupid like sending Sam on a hunt – he's not even twelve years old, he's way too young._

_Lots of love and hugs,  
Mya._

Bobby sat by the kitchen table, rereading Hermione's letter for the tenth time when John arrived to drop off Dean and Sam. The two teenagers ran in happily, certain Hermione was still there on her winter holiday, but were met with nothing but silence.

"Bobby, where's Mya?" Dean asked, clearly disappointed.

"She stayed at her school for Christmas," Bobby replied. "They have this big interschool tournament they're hosting, and there was a big Yule Ball."

"A Ball?" Dean asked. "Like, with dresses and dates and everything?"

"Yeah," Bobby said. "She sent me a picture, look."

Dean looked at the picture Bobby passed him. Hermione looked truly beautiful, wearing a blue dress and matching heels as her hair was… not as fluffy as it usually was. She looked truly stunning, and it took Dean a couple of minutes to stop looking at her and divert his attention to the person next to her – her date.

"He looks like he ran into a wall," Dean said. "Or took too many footballs to the head."

_More like Bludgers, _Bobby thought but didn't say.

"He's a pretty famous sports player, apparently," he said instead. "And he's his school's champion at the tournament."

"He could be the Queen of England and he still wouldn't be good enough for Mya," Dean muttered.

"They're not really dating," Bobby said, smiling. "At least, she didn't say they were. And I'd think she'd tell me something so important so that I can go and threaten him myself. He's just her date at the ball."

"How is she, other than that?" Dean asked, sending another odd glance at the picture.

"She's alright," Bobby said. "Met Sirius a couple of weeks back. He went back to England to watch over Harry. He's one of her school's champions at her competition."

"Are all her friends famous and I somehow missed it?"

"Only those two," Bobby laughed. "Unless I missed it, as well. She asked me to wish you a happy birthday in advance."

"That's the only reason I'm glad she's not here," Dean laughed. "She'd probably insist on having a Sweet Sixteen."

"She did mention pink things," Bobby said thoughtfully and Dean froze on his spot with fear. "Just kidding, kid. No way will anything pink enter this house as long as I have a say about it. But I heard John did gave you a couple of special presents for your birthday."

Dean's eyes lit with happiness. "He gave me the Impala," he said. "And his jacket. And a fake ID saying I'm twenty one."

"Well, I'm saying that if you're old enough to kill a vamp, you're old enough to drink," Bobby said, pulling out two bottles of beer and handing one to Dean. "Now, tell me how your year has been so far."


	11. Tough

**A/N:**** Thank you for all of the reviews, I just love you so much! And I did promise another chapter so here you go :)**

**WRose: Soon... Very soon... Next chapter level of soon (According to my current plans, at least. Maybe the one afterwards if I see it's getting too long)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

Early July 1995.

Hermione was a total and utter mess.

Cedric Diggory – dead. Voldemort – back. The Ministry – calling Harry and Dumbledore liars.

And as if all of that wasn't enough, she now had to go back home and pretend like nothing ever happened. Because her dad mustn't know. He must never know about the war that was starting, the war which was really nothing more than an extension to the last war, a war he already lost a lover to, and that his daughter was an integral part of.

It had been all of a week, and Hermione was exhausted. So when Dean stopped by for the night on his way to help a hunter clear a nest, she saw an opportunity and she took it.

"Take me with you," she told Dean late that night when they were both prepared to go to sleep.

"No way," he said.

"Why not?"

"You're too young," he told her.

"You're not that much older than me," she reminded him.

"You have no experience with hunting," he replied.

"I never will if I don't try," she retorted.

"Bobby will never let you join."

"So we'll be out before he notices I'm coming."

"He'll kill us both," Dean said. "It's too dangerous."

"I don't care," Hermione said.

"Mya –"

"Don't," Hermione said harshly. "I'm coming with you. Or, I swear, I will take the Impala and leave you here."

"You wouldn't," Dean nearly growled.

"Try me," she replied, just as angry and he sighed.

"We'll have to leave early tomorrow if we want to pull this off," Dean warned. "Like, real early."

"Fine by me," she said.

And it was. They woke up at four am and were out by five. By the time Bobby woke up and realized they weren't there, they were only a couple of hours away from John's friend.

"Sorry for the trouble," he said as soon as he saw them. "I don't usually do things like that, but I couldn't let those bloodsuckers stay so close to my wife. I'm James, by the way," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm Dean and that's Mya," Dean introduced them both as Hermione took out a couple of machetes from the Impala's trunk.

"Nice to meet you," she said absentmindedly and James rose a brow.

"Are you sure she can hunt?" he asked Dean not so quietly.

"She's Bobby Singer's kid," Dean said and James closed his mouth.

"James, is it?" Hermione asked. "What's your wife's name?"

"Um… Lily?" James said, as if uncertain what response his answer would receive.

All Hermione did was laugh. "Isn't that just great?" she asked bitterly, tossing Dean one of the knives, which he caught simply. "We'll attack now, while they're sleeping. Hopefully, this time tomorrow we'll be back home and your wife will be safe. Oh, and one more thing," she added grimly. "Don't call your kid Harry."

It was a simple hunt. The nest included only seven vampires, and they finished them off by nightfall. James offered them to stay the night, but Dean declined the offer, saying they were expected back.

"What was today all about?" he asked Hermione when they were alone in the car.

"Nothing," she said.

Dean looked at her for a moment, before turning back to the road. "I don't believe you," he said.

"Too bad," she replied.

"Hermione," Dean sighed. "I know something's been going on, and so does Bobby. We're not idiots, you know."

"You make a pretty good impression of one at the moment," she muttered.

"What's going on?" he asked again. "Why were you so determined to come on this hunt?"

"Because I can," she said.

"We all know you can –"

"No, you don't!" she called out, the anger she felt finally coming out. "Dad still treats me like a five year old. John thinks I'm incapable because I'm a girl. Sirius only sees his godson's friend, instead of somebody who can stand for her own. Mrs. Weasley thinks I'm too young and you… you treat me like I'm going to break. I knew I could do this," she huffed, leaning back in her chair. "And now you do too."

"I knew even before," Dean said.

"You didn't," Hermione said. "You thought I might, but you didn't. That was why you didn't want me to come with you. I'm just as capable as any of you."

"I never doubted it, Mya," Dean said. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel any differently, but I always knew you could do this. But… just because you can, doesn't mean you should. You're smart. Like, really smart."

"You're not an idiot yourself," she said, smiling.

Dean didn't return the smile. "Maybe not an idiot, but I'm not smart," he said. "You and Sam, you can do better than this. Go to college, get a job – a real job. All that's waiting for me at the end of the line is salt rounds and machetes."

"Not if I have a say about it," Hermione whispered, reaching out a hand and putting it on the hand Dean put on the gearshift.

A small smile crept on Dean's lips before disappearing. "I don't think anybody has a say about it," he whispered back, forcing himself not to cry.

They reached Bobby's house in the middle of the night to find out he wasn't alone. In the kitchen with him, sat a very distressed Sirius, an amused Lupin and a furious Mrs. Weasley.

"You should head upstairs," Sirius told Dean. "Mya will come soon."

Dean sent a worried glance at Hermione, who returned with a reassuring smile at him as he walked upstairs, yawning as he did. The grownups waited until there was complete silence upstairs before Lupin muttered _Muffliato_, and Mrs. Weasley and Bobby exploded together.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING TO YOURSELF, TAKING OFF LIKE THAT?"

"I WOULD HAVE EXPECTED SOMETHING LIKE THAT FROM FRED AND GOERGE, OR HARRY AND RON –"

"YOU COULD'VE DIED! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS –"

"COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE! STUPIDITY BEYOND MEASURES –"

"Well?" Bobby asked once they were done with the screams. "You've got something to say in your defense?"

"I don't regret it for a moment," Hermione said, not even blinking at the screaming match that had just occurred in front of her.

"Well, you should," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "What you did was dangerous, idiotic –"

"Amazing," Sirius said with a smile. "Brilliant. Did you really clear a nest?"

"I had help," Hermione smiled back at him, ignoring Lupin's "Sirius!"

"What?" Sirius asked in response to Bobby and Mrs. Weasley's glares. "You have to admit she was amazing."

"She shouldn't have lied to me!" Bobby called.

"You said it yourself," Lupin said. "Hermione's the kind who'd rather say sorry than ask and risk getting a 'no'."

"It's different," Bobby huffed.

"Why?"

"Because she knew what my answer would be!" Bobby called out. "She promised me it was only for protection! That was the condition – she wasn't allowed to go out and _search_ for hunts."

"She didn't search for a hunt," Sirius noted. "It pretty much showed up on her door."

"She should've known better anyway!" Bobby said. "She should've –"

"_She_ is still here," Hermione said, annoyed. "And _she_ is still not regretting it for a moment. I am just as capable as any other hunter is. You can't protect me forever. You can't… lock me in this house, trying to make sure nothing gets to me."

"I'm not locking you in the house," Bobby said.

"It feels like you are!" she replied. "I feel like I'm suffocating! Don't touch this. Don't do that. Don't go to town alone. Don't get anywhere near the tree line. Go upstairs, I'm talking to a hunter. Sending me to the Roadhouse because you don't trust me here alone. I'm not a child anymore."

"Yes, you are!" he yelled.

"I'm almost sixteen!" she called. "Closer to seventeen, really, because all of the time-turner thing, and in the Wizarding World, that's a grown person."

"You're too young –"

"No, I'm not!" Tears were now openly streaming down Hermione's face. "I was hunting today. I helped clear a nest and I felt _alive_. I felt like I can do _something_, like I'm more than just another… another _burden_ on everybody. I was useful, for the first time."

"You were always useful," Lupin said softly. "By the stories I've heard, Harry and Ron wouldn't have survived five minutes without you."

"They survived for half of third year," Hermione said. "I was alone, and they were together, and they did just fine."

"They failed nearly every subject," Sirius noted.

"But that's just it," Hermione told them. "I'm more than just this bookworm everybody sees me as."

"So you went and did something stupid and irresponsible to show us that?" Bobby asked.

"Yes."

Bobby sighed, leaning in and pulling Hermione to a hug. "You're a lot of things, Mya," he said. "You're beautiful, and smart, and the greatest gift I have ever received. You're not useless. You're definitely not a burden. And as much as it hurts me to accept that, you're not a kid anymore."

"Damn straight I'm not," she mumbled.

"But can you really blame me for wanting to see you as one for just a little longer?" Bobby questioned. "You're my little girl and I'd give the world to keep you safe. But I can't always do that, and it kills me. And I sure as hell can't do that if you're taking off in the middle of the night to join Dean on a hunt."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Hermione said, crying into her father's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, "for ever making you feel like you felt."

"It's okay," the girl mumbled, finally feeling how tired she was after this stressful day and yawning. She looked at Lupin, Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. "What're you doing here, anyways?"

"It can wait until tomorrow," Sirius said. "Of course, if you don't mind…" He looked at Bobby.

"There's an extra bed in Dean's room for Sammy," Bobby said. "Dean and Mya will sleep together – they always end at the same bed anyway," he added at Mrs. Weasley's disapproving voice. "You guys can have the boys' room, Molly will stay in mine and I'll sleep on the couch."

"It's really not necessary…" Mrs. Weasley started but Bobby cut her off.

"It's not a big deal," he said. "Softer than it looks, and you _are_ a guest. Now up to bed," he told Hermione. "Just because you came back late doesn't mean you're off your duties. You have a project to be working on."

"A project?" Lupin asked, amused, as Hermione ran upstairs.

"She's been helping me fix a motorcycle," Sirius explained. "Since I don't really know where my old one is at the moment…"

"Last I've heard, Hagrid has it," Mrs. Weasley said. "I know he's been talking to Arthur about it – a flying motorcycle, Sirius, what were you thinking?"

"How awesome it would be," Sirius laughed, running a hand through his hair.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, when Hermione reached Dean's room she found him wide awake and waiting for her.

"Well?" he asked. "I tried listening but had this odd buzzing in my ears. The screams at first did pass through, though," he added with half a smile.

"It was hard," Hermione said, "for both of us. But I think we're fine now."

"I'm glad," Dean said, heaving a sigh. "Bobby's not… he's not angry, is he?"

"Not with you," Hermione reassured him, laughing. "We have a couple of guests for the night so you'll sleep in my room tonight."

"We always end up in the same bed anyway," Dean smiled.

"That what Dad told Mrs. Weasley," Hermione told him. "She wasn't very approving of the idea, to say the least."

"It's not like anything's gonna happen," Dean said, thinking back at the boy Hermione was with at the ball at her school last Christmas, and of her famous best friend.

"No," Hermione said sadly, thinking about stories she heard from Sammy about all of Dean's girlfriends and the girls who wish they could date him. "It's not."


	12. Midnight Talks

**A/N:** **First of all, I'd like to say something - I know that sometimes a lot of time passes betwen chapters, and I'm really sorry for that, but sometimes I just don't have the time to write. Every chapter is being edited about three times by me before I send it to my beta (The incredible Jay Nice) and we both have things to do other than work on it.**

**Every time I see a review, it makes my heart go warm and happy, but sometimes I see reviews about why it's taking me so long before updates and it makes me sad because I'm really trying my best. Please take that in mind.**

**On a happier note, I would like to return to something I did at first but kinda forgot about it since, and note Missy Winchester, my 400th follower. I really had no idea people would like this story so much and I just love you all!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

July 1995.

Even though every bit of her body was sore and tired, Hermione couldn't find sleep that night. She tried her best to keep the twisting and turning down to minimum, as to not disturb Dean who was probably just as tired as she was, but after about an hour of that she gave up and left the bed, silently making her way downstairs.

She passed Bobby's sleeping form on the sofa and walked outside, letting herself drown in the moonlight.

The full moon is only a couple of days away, she noticed. It wouldn't be easy on either Lupin or Sirius, what with everything else that was going on.

She wondered how Harry was doing, back at Privet Drive. He was probably feeling terrible as he grieved the loss of Cedric and tried to comprehend Voldemort's return and the war that approached slowly but steadily. He probably felt as useless as she did. Only she had Bobby, Dean, and now also Sirius, Lupin and Mrs. Weasley to help her with that. He only had his estranged uncle, aunt and cousin.

She wondered about Ron. He must be all right if Mrs. Weasley was here. As a matter of fact, _all_ Weasleys must be all right. There was no way Mrs. Weasley would move two inches away if anyone of her family was hurt – certainly not make a trip halfway across the world. Hermione took small comfort at that thought. Small, because she didn't think anything could be of any real comfort right now.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Hermione didn't as much as flinch as the familiar voice broke the silence. She kept looking at the tree line, sunken in her thoughts.

"Shouldn't _you_ be?" she finally asked.

All Lupin did was laugh softly. "Touché," he said, sitting next to her. "So, what keeps you up at night?"

"Everything," she sighed. "Voldemort, the war, Harry, Ron, Dean. My dad."

"He doesn't know, does he?" Lupin asked.

"Not unless you told him," Hermione replied.

"We didn't," he reassured her. "But I think you should, soon."

"You saw how he acted today when all I did was go out on an easy hunt," she told him. "If he knew that the same wizard that killed my mom was back, and that I'm best friends with his number one target…" She trailed off.

"You're scared he'd lock you in the house?" Lupin asked, amused.

"Something like that," she replied.

"You should give him more credit, you know," Lupin said. "He knows something is up, even if it doesn't show."

"I just want them all to be safe," Hermione sighed. "Is that too much to ask?"

"I don't think it is," Lupin replied. "Then again, I didn't think Voldemort would be back, and you can see how well that turned out."

"Why are you here, anyways?" Hermione questioned.

"We want you to move into the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters," Lupin said.

"The _what_?" Hermione asked.

"Order of the Phoenix," he replied. "It's an organization that works against Voldemort. Dumbledore started it during the last war, and he's reestablishing it now." "Shouldn't _you_ be?" she finally asked.

"Can I help in the fighting?"

"No," he said, ignoring her scowl at his answer. "You have to be seventeen and out of Hogwarts for that."

"So what's the point of it all?" she questioned.

"The point is that you will know more about what is going on," Lupin replied. "Not everything, of course, but if Bobby signs Sirius as your guardian while you're there… I honestly don't think Sirius would keep much from you after the stunt you pulled today."

"So you're trying to bribe me off with information?" Hermione looked at him.

"Depends," Lupin smiled. "Is it working?"

"I must say it does," she admitted, and they both burst into laughter.

The next morning, Hermione woke up to find an empty bed and a note from Dean saying he's sorry, but John called and he needed him to keep an eye out for Sammy. Sighing, she dressed up and walked downstairs to find Bobby, Sirius, Lupin and Mrs. Weasley sitting in the kitchen.

They explained to her some of what Lupin told her last night – the Bobby-secure version of it, at least – and asked her if she wanted to come to back to London with them.

After she said yes and went upstairs to pack her bag with the help of Mrs. Weasley and Remus walked outside for some sunlight, Bobby and Sirius were left alone in the kitchen.

They sat silently for a couple of minutes, sipping on their beers, before Bobby spoke.

"Things are bad, aren't they?" he asked.

"Yes," Sirius said, seeing it was useless to lie to the hunter. "They are."

"She didn't think I saw it, but I do," Bobby sighed. "It's hard. To know you can't protect your kid."

"I know what you mean," Sirius replied, thinking back to how useless he is when it comes to Harry. "But you have to let her go eventually."

"I know," Bobby said, finishing his beer. "Keep her safe for me, would ya?"

"I'll hex any boy who comes within a mile from her," Sirius smiled.

"Thank you," Bobby told him. "I don't think you understand how important it is to me."

* * *

August 1995.

It was the last night before going back to Hogwarts, and Hermione was stressed and nervous as ever.

Being here, at Grimmauld Place… was definitely not what she expected. Yes, she had received more information than before, but it wasn't granted lightly. Even the bits Sirius was able to tell her here and there only made her feel worse, as she only got the feeling that things were by far messier than she thought.

She still had the helpless feeling of uselessness, and now she was about to go back to Hogwarts where she could do even less.

After twisting and turning in bed for a while and realizing sleep didn't come easy that night, she tip-toed out of the room, careful as to not wake Ginny up, and made her way to the kitchen.

Once there, she opened a couple of cabinets before she found out what she was looking for. Sighing, she opened the beer on the counter and raised it to her lips when she saw Sirius standing at the doorway and looking at her.

"Really, Mya," he said fondly. "What would Bobby said if he knew you were drinking?"

"Probably something along the lines of 'If she's old enough to kill a vamp, she's old enough to drink'," Hermione replied.

"Fair point," Sirius beamed at her. "Get me one as well, would you?"

She handed him over the beer she was holding and took a new one for herself, slowly drinking the bitter liquid.

"So," Sirius finally said. "What's keeping you up at night?"

"Everything," she replied. "I'm feeling so useless. I feel like I should be out there, doing… anything, really. Just not stuck here."

"I know what you're talking about," he said, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she remembered that he was about to be stuck in this house even after she was going back to Hogwarts. "There's a war going on outside and we're just…" He sighed and took another swig of his beer. "It's frustrating."

"It really is," Hermione said, drinking some more. It really didn't taste so bad after a while.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes before a smile broke on Sirius' face. He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled picture.

"I wanted to show you this," he said. "Mad-Eye found it, he also showed Harry. See there?"

He marked at a tall woman with black hair, as bushy and curly as hers, and brown, sad eyes. She was standing between a pair of red headed twins and laughed as one of them leaned in and whispered something into her ear.

"Is that…" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Your mom," Sirius verified. "Moony said he told you she was an order member. She's standing between the Prewett twins – don't ask me who's who, I couldn't tell – and here, behind her is Remus – I forgot how long his hair used to be – Lily, James, Wormtail, Dumbledore, Hagrid, McGonagall, Frank and Alice Longbottom and your loyal servant," he finished with a smile. "I could tell you some of the others as well, but I don't think their names would mean much to you."

Hermione was looking at the picture. Bobby didn't have any pictures of her mom in the house, and it was the first time she saw how she looked rather than simply hearing stories about it.

She was beautiful. Stunning, really, not that common beauty. Her hair may have been fluffy, but it worked so well with her heart-shaped face, unlike Hermione's, and the way her eyes wrinkled when she laughed before the scene restarted and the sad look returned to her eyes was adorable.

And if you looked carefully, you could just see underneath the layers of clothes…

"She's pregnant," Hermione stated out loud, amazed by the realization that the small bump, barely visible where her mother's stomach was, was her.

"Yes," Sirius said. "The picture was taken at March of '79. I don't think anybody other than Gid and Fabe knew about it at the point. Maybe Dumbledore, since he stopped sending her to high-risked missions."

"That's so weird," Hermione muttered under her breath. "That's her. That's how she looked like." Tears suddenly rose to her eyes. "And she was dead less than a year later."

"She died a hero's death," Sirius said.

"I'd rather her not die at all," Hermione choked out.

"I know," he replied. "Trust me, I know how it feels to lose people in the war. But I also know that she loved you more than anything. She brought you to an Order meeting once – you couldn't have been older than a month old – and all along, she held you in her hands. Didn't put you down for a moment, it was as if she was afraid to lose you the moment she did."

"As if she knew our time was limited," Hermione said sadly.

"And during that time, you were the most important thing in her life," Sirius said. "Now go to bed. You have a long day tomorrow."

"Thank you," Hermione told him, "for telling me all of that. Showing me the picture and all."

"Any time, Mya," he replied, smiling sadly as the teenager made her way upstairs.

He took another long look at the picture and saw Lily and James' smiling faces before pulling himself another beer.

It's gonna be a long night, that much he knew.


	13. The Inner Huntress

**A/N:**** Okay, so since I see this question is repeating itself in the reviews - Dean and Mya _will_ end up together. Eventually. I have a very big, elaborted plan filled with things I hope you won't hate me for. But they _will_ have their happy ending.**

**In the meanwhile, what happens when Hermione's huntress side and magical side comes crashing together in the middle of the second wizarding war? This chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

November 1995.

"Are you out of your friggin mind?"

"Come on, Hermione!" Harry called. "Just one time!"

"No," Hermione said for about the tenth time.

"Why not?" he questioned.

"Because!" she called. "Ron, tell him!"

"You leave me out of this!"

"Do you have any idea how helpful it would be?" Harry asked. "Please, Hermione, just this once!"

"What's going on?" Ginny, who had just walked into the common room, said.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Ron said. "Save me, they've been fighting about it for about an hour."

"About what?"

"Harry wants me to run a DA session about non-magical defense," Hermione explained. "Can you _please_ tell him that's a ridicules idea?"

"Actually, it's not that bad," Ginny said thoughtfully, ignoring Hermione's "_Ginny!_"

"See?" Harry asked. "I told you so!"

"Harry," Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Listen carefully because I won't say it again. There is _no way_ I would teach a DA class in hand-to-hand combat."

"Why not?" The twins' heads popped up from behind the portrait hole. "It's gonna be awesome."

* * *

"Before we start, I want you all to know that I'm against it."

The crowd looked at Hermione, clinging onto her every word and she sighed.

"If you lose your wand in the middle of a battle, your chances are slim," she went on. "So don't. However, you can give yourself slightly higher chances if you know how to get your wand back." She looked around the room and searched for someone who looked like they thought this class was a waste of time. "Ernie, come here, please."

The Hufflepuff stepped forward, catching her wand as she threw it to him.

"Put it behind you," she instructed and he obeyed. "Your goal is to stop me from getting my wand back. You can use any of the curses that you know." A small smile crossed her lips when she saw the way he was preparing himself. "Go."

He quickly threw a "Stupefy" in her direction and was surprised to see her gracefully avoiding it. She started running towards him and he sent more curses her way but none hit the target. Soon enough, she was right in front of him.

She swiped her leg underneath him and he fell on a mattress she requested the room to supply. Her wand was back in her hand and pointed at his face as her foot pressed lightly against his wand hand.

Shocked silence filled the room as she backed away and helped Ernie back to his feet.

"I don't expect any of you to manage this on your first attempt," she told them all. "But you can still use the basics. Divide into pairs, please. Boys with boys and girls with girls, for a start, and I want you to try and pin your partner to the mattress."

Mattresses appeared on the floor and everybody started doing as they were told. Some people were really good and it was no surprise for her when she moved Ginny to fight one of the boys since no girl was a real match for her, but some were really bad.

"Put your legs wider apart so it would be harder to make you trip," she told Ernie, whose weak spots she had already noticed. "You're small, so you can use your enemy's weight against him," she instructed Luna. "If you ever tell any of your brothers, I will deny," she whispered in Ginny's ear as the latter fought against Dean Thomas, "but you can distract him with your cleavage."

Training went on for about an hour before Hermione noticed that none of Ron's partners posed a challenge to him. Growing up with five older brothers made him familiar with sparring, and he knew how to beat even those who were physically stronger than he was.

"This won't do," she muttered as she saw it took both Fred and George pinning him to the ground, and the way they barely managed to keep him there. "You need a tougher task."

"How about you?" George offered.

"I'm not better than the two of you combined!" she called.

The twins exchanged an odd look. "Yeah, you are," Fred said.

"You have more experience," George said.

"Merlin knows what you are doing on school breaks," Fred added.

"Well, Merlin, Mum, Sirius and Lupin. But they won't tell us."

"And we'd love to see you against somebody who actually manages to stay on his feet for more than ten seconds!"

Hermione was nervous. What if she'll get carried away? What if she'll hurt him by accident? She was calmed down by the look on his face. _Just like practicing with Dean and Sam._

Ron handed her his wand and she placed it behind her, not unlike Ernie did at the beginning of the meeting. He stepped back to the other end of the room before stopping and smiling at her.

She automatically smiled back and before she knew it, he was halfway across the room.

Without thinking, she sent three quick curses towards him, aiming each of them to where she knew he would be moments later. He changed his course to avoid them and appeared in front of her, trying to knock her down but only managing at knocking her wand away from her hand.

She tried to make him trip, the same way she did to Ernie, but he was well prepared for that and grabbed her wrist, dropping her down with him.

She missed the mattress, falling on the floor and knocking her head at the ground. Her breath escaped from her lungs and Ron forgot everything, kneeling besides her to make sure she was alright. She used the moment of distraction to flip him on his back and pinned him to the floor.

Ron tried to push her away but all Hermione did was smile at him. Her eyes locked with his and she realized she never noticed them before. She knew Harry's eyes were green, as everybody kept telling him that, and she could tell you the exact shade of Dean's, but she never really thought about Ron's eyes.

Quickly, she shook the thought away from her head. "I win," she whispered before backing away and helping him to his feet.

Cheeks flushing up, she saw the entire room was looking at the two of them and by Ron's red ears, he was just as embarrassed as she was. It felt like eternity before Harry spoke.

"Looks like time's up," he said. "We'll let you know when the next meeting will be."

The crowd started streaming out of the room and towards the common rooms and Hermione, too embarrassed to stay with Harry and Ron, jogged to keep up with Neville.

"You did really well today," she told him.

"I did rubbish," he muttered.

"You'll get better in time," Hermione promised. "You should see how I was when I started. Just don't let the failures get you down.

"I won't," Neville said determinedly, causing Hermione to smile as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

December 1995.

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place the first day of the winter holidays. She felt somewhat sad, as she wanted to go back home for Christmas. Sirius was supposed to join her as well, and maybe she would have even seen Dean and Sam, but she knew her presence was more needed here than at home.

So she came here and hoped it wouldn't be too bad. Mrs. Weasley sent her bags to her and Ginny's room with a wave of her wand, and after she helped Ron and Ginny to get Harry talking again after they all overheard a conversation at St. Mango's, the four of them walked into the kitchen.

It was then when she heard a gruff, familiar voice, louder than any other.

"Balls!"

Happiness swept over her and her eyes lit up as she ran inside, throwing herself into the arms of the old hunter and calling, "Daddy!"

"Hey, Mya," Bobby said, smiling. "Staying in school to study for your OWLs, are ya?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly at being caught lying. "How'd you know?" she asked.

"That would be my fault," Sirius said from somewhere next to them. "I dropped by this morning to explain I wouldn't be coming either, what with everything that happened to Mr. Weasley."

"Problem was," Bobby said, "I had no clue what he was talking about."

"Sorry, Daddy," Hermione muttered, causing her father to sigh.

"You've got to stop lying to me, Mya," he said. "It doesn't make me any less worried. If anything, it makes me worry more, because I know you're hiding something."

"Sometimes, you're better off not knowing," she whispered.

"Maybe," Sirius said. "But don't you think it's up to him to decide?"

Hermione looked down in shame before seating at the table with her father and telling him everything.

She told him about the troll in the bathroom and the Philosopher's Stone. She told him about her mishap with the Polyjuice Potion and about the Chamber of Secrets – the _real_ reason she'd stopped sending letters during her second year. She told him all about Peter Pettigrew and his connection to Voldemort, and how he'd escaped and found his master.

Hermione told him about the previous year. About the fake Moody – Barty Crouch Jr. – the Triwizard Tournament and what happened to Harry in the graveyard. Lastly, she told him about Voldemort's return and how the Ministry was denying it, and about the Order of the Phoenix.

During her speech, people came and went from the kitchen. Harry and Ron sat by her side as she explained what it felt like to be petrified, ashamed at themselves for never asking her earlier. They both left the room when Wormtail was mentioned – each for his own reasons – and when Voldemort came up, everyone other than Sirius left.

"So he's back?" Bobby asked.

"Yes," Sirius verified.

"And you fight him?" he questioned.

"We are."

"Good," Bobby said. "I want in."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "No!" she called. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you!"

"Bobby, you can't," Sirius said, shaking his head. "These are trained, ruthless wizards we're talking about."

"I'm a hunter," Bobby said. "I've dealt with worse."

"You haven't," Sirius insisted. "The things Voldemort and his followers do…"

"D'you think I don't know that?" Bobby questioned. "That son of a bitch's the reason Mya grew up without a mother!"

"Yes, he is," Hermione said. "So please, _please_ don't let him be the reason I spend the rest of my life without a father."

Silence fell in the kitchen. Thick, tense silence, as a father looked at his child with a heavy heart and a daughter observed her father, tears in her eyes.

"This is a war," she said quietly. "I don't fool myself. I know people will die. But I refuse to let you be one of those people."

"If you're in this," Bobby said determinedly, "then I am –"

"No, you're not," she cut him off. "Even if I have to Obliviate you for that."

"You wouldn't," Bobby growled.

But the three current inhabitants of the kitchen all knew Hermione didn't ever make false threats.

"Try me," she told him.

"Go to your room," he ordered.

"No."

"Go to your room, _now_."

"We're not at home," she said. "You can't tell me what to do. I have proven more than once that I am a grown witch and therefore –"

"I AM YOUR FATHER AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY!" he bellowed. "AND WHEN I TELL YOU TO GO TO YOUR ROOM, _YOU WILL GO TO YOUR ROOM_!"

Taking a deep breath to relax herself, Hermione wore the exact same expression Dean wore whenever he was talking to John. She stood up and looked at her father calmly. _Too calmly._

"Yes, sir," she said coolly, before turning her back at them and leaving.


	14. War

**A/N:**** I love all of you and your lovely reviews I uploaded the last chapter and went to sleep and when I woke up I saw about 20 reviews I love you so much!**

**~Stops for breath~**

**So I love you. Here's a chapter. I'm gonna try uploading every Wednesday from now on. **

**Did I say that I love you yet?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

December 1995.

As soon as Hermione reached her room, she locked herself inside and started crying.

She couldn't even bear the thought of losing her dad, and if he fought against Voldemort, it meant nearly sure death. She had to stop him from it, but he was just so goddamn stubborn!

"Hermione?" Harry's voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Leave me alone!" she called through her sobs.

"You know we're not going to do that, Mione," Ron said.

"Just go away!"

"Well, like it or not, this is my room as well and I'm coming in," Ginny declared as she opened the door.

Hermione's eyes rose to meet her best friends' before she immediately looked away.

_Dean used to be my best friend,_ she thought. _Things were so simple back then. When did my life become so complicated?_

"What happened?" Harry asked her, sitting next to her on the bed.

"Nothing," Hermione sniffed.

"It isn't nothing if you're crying," Ron informed her. "Come on, Mione. We heard the screams all the way up to our room."

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said. "You know you can tell us everything, right?"

Hermione buried her face in her pillow as she responded to her friends' questions, making her words muffled into each other. "M'dad wants to fight 'gainst Vold'mort."

A sad look of understanding crossed Ron and Ginny's faces.

"We know what it's like, Hermione," Ron said carefully. "Our parents are fighting, too. Look what just happened to our dad – we know how dangerous it is. But… they know the risks, as well. They're choosing it."

"I don't want him to choose it," Hermione said, raising her head to look at him. "He's the only thing I've got – Voldemort has already killed everyone on my mother's side and his side died before I was born. I don't have this big family. He's all I've got."

"I know," Harry said. "And you know how scared I am that something would happen to Remus or Sirius. But if they weren't willing to fight… they wouldn't be the people we love so much, would they?"

"War is hard," Ginny said. "And despite how much they try to keep us in the dark – to keep us kids – we know we're at war. The number of people who _believe_ You-Know-Who's back is small enough as it is, let alone people willing to _fight_ him."

"He's my dad," Hermione repeated.

"And if he found out all that was going on and wasn't willing to fight, what would you have thought?"

Hermione sighed as gloom realization came upon her. "I would have wondered if he was ever the man I thought him to be," she admitted.

She knew they were right. She knew that it wasn't like Bobby to hear everything that was going on and decide to sit aside and let other people risk their lives. Not him, who had spent most of his life fighting the evil this world had within it. He wouldn't let anybody, let alone the man who had personally killed her mother, do as he pleased and hurt innocent people.

"Why must it all be so hard?" she asked nobody in particular.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But what I do know is that your dad loves you, and cares about you. That is why he wants to fight, as well. Could you really be mad at him for that?"

Sighing again, Hermione rose from her bed and started making her way downstairs. Harry, Ron and Ginny joined her as Ron took his place besides her and she grabbed his hand for comfort. They reached the kitchen where Bobby and Sirius were still sitting and having a small, quiet argument.

As soon as they noticed the presence of the four additional people in the kitchen, the hunter and the Animagus stopped and looked at them. Bobby eyed the hands Ron and Hermione were holding suspiciously, causing Ron to immediately drop his grip. Then, he looked at his daughter.

He could clearly see the marks tears had left on her face, and the way she seemed to be holding herself together ever so fragilely. Her comment at the end of their argument hurt like a knife into his heart – she had never called him _sir_ before, and the similarities between her and Dean at that moment hurt him, as they put him as if he were in John's place.

He never thought that the way John was raising the boys was good. They were supposed to be children, not soldiers, for heaven's sake! But the more he learned about everything his Mya has been through in the last couple of years, the more he realized that even though he had never raised her to be a soldier, this is what she had become.

She was fighting a _war_. There were people after her head – the same people that were after her mother's head and he knew he would die if Hermione's story would ended the same way.

She was all he had – she and the boys. He didn't think he would make it if anything had happened to her.

"Mya," he said, cursing himself at the way his voice broke at the word.

"Dad," she replied, and he took small comfort at the fact she wasn't calling him 'sir' any more.

"I was just talking to Sirius, and I think we've reached a solution to the… problem we had."

Her hand immediately darted out and grabbed Ron's again, pressing it as if her life depended on his presence by her side.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice shaking like the rest of her body.

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Luckily, Sirius was quick to respond.

"After Voldemort's return will be accepted by the public, there are going to be more attacks, especially against Muggleborns," he said. "Bobby can't leave the States for a very long time, since many hunters depend on him for their covers or for help during hunts. We were trying to figure out a way for him to help from there, and I think we've found it."

"We'll send the Muggleborns to the States, and they could hide there," Bobby explained. "The Order believes that Voldemort would make sure he's got Britain under his control before he'll try to take the rest of the world."

"That means that unless things get hectic, they should be safe in the States," Sirius finished. "Even if they have children, the Trace doesn't work there, so –"

"Hold on a moment!" Hermione said, raising her hand. "The Trace doesn't work back home? That means I could've used magic all this time?"

A smile broke on Bobby's face. Focusing on this small detail, out of their entire plan – that was typical Hermione and he was glad that even if she was still mad at him, he got to see that.

"The fact that the Ministry doesn't know doesn't mean I will allow it," he said.

"But if you don't know either…" She smiled mischievously.

Bobby stopped to look at Sirius. "You've created a monster," he told him.

"Wait," Harry said, addressing Bobby and bringing the conversation back to where it started. "What's your plan?"

"I have a lot of contacts back home," he said. "Once we managed to get in touch with the American Minister of Magic, we can make sure people would be safe there."

"And Bobby could work from home," Sirius said. "We can set up wards so that no magical being could come anywhere near his house without express permission from one of you. He could help with the war effort, and still be protected."

"He'll be safe?" Hermione asked, tears rising to her eyes.

"I'll be safe, Mya," Bobby told her. "They won't be able to get to me."

* * *

June 1996.

But even though the Death Eaters couldn't get to Bobby, they could still get to Harry and, by extension, Hermione.

They were running in the Department of Mysteries after they were lured into a trap. Somewhere along the way, they were separated from the others and now couldn't find Ron, Ginny and Luna.

They were blindly running into different rooms, battling the Death Eaters and doing everything they could to simply make it alive and live another day.

They found everyone again in the room with the veil. The Death Eaters were there, as well, and they held them all at wand point while Lucius Malfoy told Harry to bring him the prophecy.

"Don't do it, Harry!" Hermione called and the Death Eater that held her pulled her hair, extracting a yelp out of her mouth.

The movement caused something to shift against her belt, and now her hand was just in reach of the knife that was hidden there. She extracted it and put it into the Death Eater's thigh just as the Order arrived.

Now, she was free again, but she couldn't find her wand. It was thrown away earlier, and she felt helpless without it. She grabbed the Death Eater's wand, thinking that it was better than nothing, and cringed as the feeling of black magic passed through her.

But she had no time for that.

Looking around the room, she sighed in relief as she didn't see her father, deciding he was probably away and safe.

Curses were all around her, and she cast a couple of her own to help her friends get free, ignoring the feeling the dark wand gave her. She saw Tonks dueling Bellatrix and falling off, and sent a shield charm to keep her safe right before a curse hit her right in the chest.

Her scream was short-lived before she lost consciousness.

When she woke up, she found herself in the Hospital Wing. Her entire body burned and when she tried to speak, only a hoarse whimper left her mouth. Before she could do anything, Madam Pomfrey ran to her side.

"Drink this," she ordered, handing the girl a dark purple potion.

"What happened?" Hermione croaked once she obeyed.

"A very powerful spell hit you," the Matron told her. "Luckily, it was nonverbal, but it still caused a great deal of damage."

"Is everybody okay?" Hermione asked. "Ron, Harry, Ginny… Neville and Luna… are they alright?"

A dark, sad look crossed Madam Pomfrey's face. "The Headmaster will be here shortly," she said, walking away.

* * *

Said Headmaster, in the meanwhile, was trying to calm down a very distressed hunter, halfway around the world.

"What d'you mean I can't come see her?" Bobby asked. "She's my daughter!"

"Your daughter, who is currently at a castle surrounded by countless anti-Muggles spells," Dumbledore said calmly. "You can't even _see_ the castle, let alone visit it."

"She's hurt!" Bobby called. "I need to see her – I need to make sure she's okay."

"I guarantee you that Poppy will make sure Hermione is alright," Dumbledore said. "In the meanwhile, we have matters to discuss."

"I can't discuss any matters until I know how she is!"

"She is alive," the old wizard said. "And, physically, she will be fine."

"Physically?" Bobby asked.

"You know the price of war, Mr. Singer," Dumbledore said. "And you must know that, sometimes…"

Realization crossed Bobby's face. "Who died?" he asked in a small voice, scared of what the answer might be.

"Sirius," Dumbledore replied, and Bobby had to sit down because he was afraid his feet wouldn't be able to hold him anymore.

"No," he whispered. "No, it can't be… Sirius?"

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said. "Now, in the coming weeks, Harry is going to desperately need Ron and Hermione, and Hermione will need you. During the time Sirius spent here and Hermione spent in Grimmauld Place, he had become more than simply her best friend's Godfather – he became a friend to her."

"I…" Bobby's breath hitched. "I'm gonna need to tell John, Dean and Sammy. They… When is the funeral?"

"There is no body to bury," Dumbledore admitted. "And even if there was, bringing Muggles along isn't a good idea – not unless they know of our world."

"They don't," Bobby said. "They don't, and for a good reason. Oh, god. Sirius… What am I gonna do?"

"There will be two more weeks until Hermione will be home," Dumbledore said. "You have that long to prepare yourself for everything she might need. I had managed to contact the American Minister last month, so now that Voldemort is out in the open we will start to transfer people to here."

Bobby nodded curtly, signaling his understanding. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Not at the moment, but…" Dumbledore hesitated before resuming. "Things will get harder from now on. The war is progressing and Hermione is at the heart of the storm. She will grow up very quickly during the coming years, but she will still need her father."

"I'll be there for her," Bobby said without hesitation. "I always will."

"I know you will," Dumbledore said. "And that is why I ask you – when the time will come and she will need you to let her go, please do. Some parts of this journey, she will have to go through without you."

And with that, Dumbledore took off, leaving Bobby sitting on the couch and wondering how much the Headmaster knew, and how much was he hiding.


	15. Leather Jacket Gunpowder and Machine Oil

**A/N:**** I know, I know, short chapter, blah blah blah _but_ after writing this, I had a writing streak. I have two more chapters ready which means I will update on Sunday next week, as well as Wednesday.**

**Plus, the next two chapters are drowning with Dean/Hermione. So there's that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

July 1996.

Hermione was sat on the bed in her bedroom, back at Bobby's house. During the past couple of weeks, she healed, comforted Harry and laughed with everybody at the way the Ministry were acting. Now, she didn't have anything to do other than grieve.

She looked at her suitcase, still packed up with all of her school clothes and books. With a single swish of her wand, all of her belonging neatly organized themselves on her shelves.

She remembered when Tonks taught her this spell. It took her five attempts to manage it properly, just to show Hermione and Ginny what it should do, and Sirius said –

No. it was too hard to think about Sirius.

John was supposed to come later that evening with Dean and Sammy. There was a toast planned, in memory of Sirius, but all Hermione could think about is how just a little bit less than a year ago she sat with Sirius at the kitchen in Grimmauld place and they had a conversation over a beer.

Will the pain ever fade? Will she ever be able to think about something that reminded her of Sirius without arriving to the verge of tears?

She didn't feel like she would.

She laid on her bed until the sun set and shadows started filling the room, but even then she couldn't bring herself to turn on a light. To wave her wand and lit a candle. To call for Bobby and just cry in his arms until she couldn't feel anything anymore. Dean was the one who finally came for her.

As soon as the door opened and the smell of his leather jacket, gunpowder and machine oil filled her room, tears rose to her eyes. And then he was there, holding her, hugging her and telling her everything is going to be alright but she couldn't find it within her to believe it.

Eventually, the tears ended. Dean took her to the bathroom where he carefully and gently washed her face before taking her downstairs.

Bobby sat next to the kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to him. Next to him, John poured a glass for each of them, grabbing beers along the way and leading them all outside where Sammy was sitting and looking at the sky.

"This is Sirius," he said, pointing at the starry sky. "The brightest star in the sky and the heart of the Canis Major constellation. It's also called the Dog Star."

"Sirius Black," Bobby said, a small, sad smile on his lips. "The black dog."

John gave each of them their respective shots of the alcoholic drink – his and Bobby's bigger than Dean and Hermione's, and Sammy's the smallest – before raising it up.

"To Sirius," he said.

"To Sirius," they all echoed before downing their drinks.

Sammy pulled a face at the taste but didn't say anything, and Hermione had come to the understanding that they were doing it all for her. None of them were really close to Sirius, except Bobby, but there they were, supporting her.

She started crying again.

"Dumbledore sent me a copy of Sirius' will," Bobby said once she calmed down, handing her a piece of paper. "Apparently, he left some things for us."

There wasn't much written on it – except for the entry and the signature, there were only a couple of short lines.

_To Hermione Singer, I give my leather jacket so she could match Dean's, and my motorbike, to use whenever she wanted._

_To Bobby Singer, I give one third of my vault's value in US dollars, to assist him and other hunters in need._

_To Harry Potter, I give all of my remaining belongings._

Something shut off inside Hermione as she saw the words. The motorbike – the one they were trying to replicate. She wasn't sure if she even wanted it. She should probably talk to Dumbledore and tell him to keep it, at least until she finished with school. It wasn't like she'd have the chance to use it.

And a third of his vault's value… Hermione read a lot about the Black family. They were rich beyond imagination, even a third of all of their value probably meant that there wouldn't be a hungry hunter ever again for the next century.

Bobby said that Dumbledore had already attached Sirius' jacket to the letter, and went inside to get it for her. She put it on, surprised by the weight of it on her slim shoulders.

"It's perfect on you," Dean said with a soft smile, adjusting it to fit her.

"It's two sizes too big," she told him.

"I don't see it," he retorted, and for the first time that day, she laughed.

Then, they all sat on the Impala, beers in hand while they watched the night's sky.

* * *

September 1996.

The first Potions class of the year was something Hermione waited eagerly to. Being back at school was good for her, as even though the articles about Voldemort and his doing kept on coming, at least the Ministry _admitted_ that he's back, and the classes gave her mind something else to think about, other than the war.

She was sat at one of the tables, next to a gold-colored Amortentia potion Hermione inhaled deeply. Slughorn, the new teacher, started talking and explaining about what they will learn during the coming two years, and Hermione listened to his every word.

"Anyone tell me what this one is?" he asked, marking to the potion next to where four Slytherins sat, Malfoy amongst them.

Hermione's hand popped up immediately. "It's Veritaserum," she said, getting the usual satisfaction of knowing the answer to a question the teacher asked. "A colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said, beaming at her. "Now, this one here is pretty well known…" he added, marking at the one next to the table of four Ravenclaws. "Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can –?"

Hermione's hand was up in the air once more. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said. Of course she knew this potion. She _brewed_ it during her second year. Turned herself to a cat, too.

"Excellent, excellent!" Slughorn called. "Now, this one here... yes, my dear?"

"It's Amortentia!" she called, inhaling deeply once more.

"It is indeed," Slughorn told her. "It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" she said with awe.

"Quite right!" Slughorn called. "You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," she added enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell leather jacket, gunpowder and –"

Hermione's face turned pink. _And machine oil_, she thought. _Leather jacket, gunpowder and machine oil. She was too deep in for her own good._

"May I ask your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Singer, sir."

"Singer?" he questioned. "Singer? Can you possibly be related to the pureblood Singer family in the United States?"

"No, I don't think so, sir," Hermione said, surprised that there even _was_ a pureblood Singer family in the United States. "My dad's a Muggle, you see."

"Oho!" Slughorn called, looking at Harry. "'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry told him.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Singer," Slughorn said.

"Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year?" Hermione questioned, touched and proud. "Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" Ron whispered. "You are the best in the year – I would've told him so if he'd asked me!"

Warmth filled Hermione's heart, but she shushed him and turned back to Slughorn, clinging to his every word. The assignment he gave them was to try and create the Draught of Living Death. The one who would brew it best during their time-limit would earn a small vial of Felix Felicis – liquid luck.

About ten minutes after the class had begun, Hermione's potion was, of course, the best, but she couldn't quite realize why wasn't it brightening from deep purple to lilac. Looking around, she saw that Harry moved on, and that his potion turned a pale shade of pink.

"How are you doing that?" she asked, annoyed.

"Add a clockwise stir –" he started, but she cut him off.

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped. Who was she to change the instructions written in the book? It was written by someone far more experienced than her, and for a good reason.

By the time the class ended, Harry's potion was the best and he won the vial of Felix Felicis. As supportive as Hermione tried to be, she couldn't help but feeling a little annoyed and confused.

_What was it about Harry's book that knew better than the Potions Master who had written it?_

As soon as they reached lunch and Harry told them about the written instructions in his book, Hermione made a grab for it, ignoring her friend's protests.

"Specialis Revelio!" she said, tapping the front cover of the book with her wand. "It seems all right," she said, slightly disappointed as nothing seemed to happen. "I mean, it really does seem to be… just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," Harry said, but the book slipped from his grasp and fell open at the floor.

Scribbled along the bottom of the back cover, in small, cramped handwriting, was a short sentence – _This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince._


	16. Last Moments of Peace

**A/N:**** So, whenever I write a scene with both Dean and Hermione in it, there's a small voice in my head screaming, "Kiss. Kiss! _Kiss!_"**

**No spoilers but that voice is very satisfied right now (If you know what I mean).**

**Also, I have about a trillion different story ideas running around in my head at any given time, and some of them are starting to have a bit more flesh and bones to them. If you'd just click on my profile up there, you could see a poll to help me decide which of them would turn into actual stories I might even post soon and which would stay ideas.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

December 1996.

"Mya?" Bobby knocked on the door of Hermione's room carefully. As soon as she arrived for the holidays she entered her room and hadn't left. She skipped dinner the night before, and Bobby was starting to get worried that something may have happened. "Can I come in?"

When he received no reply, he slowly opened the door to see the sixteen – seventeen, since September – year old girl laying on her bed, back to the door.

"What do you want?" she asked, a strange coldness to her voice.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

"It's nothing," she said, sniffing.

It was only then that he realized she had been crying. "Clearly, it's not nothing," he said. "If anything bothers you –"

"We are at war," she cut him off. "I should just shove my stupid teenager problems aside. There are more important things."

"Not for me," he said as he sat down next to her. "No matter what is going on, I am always here to listen to your stupid teenager problems. Or stupid non-teenager problems – every problem you have, really."

She sniffed again, wiping tears off her eyes but not sitting up just yet. "Ron's dating Lavender," she finally said. "And it bugs me. And I don't know _why_ it bugs me. I's not as if I'm jealous or anything."

"Maybe you are jealous," he offered and she looked up at him.

"I'm _not_ jealous of Lavender," she said harshly.

"I never said you were jealous of her," Bobby told her. "But you might be jealous of them. Of what they have."

"What they have?" she repeated. "All they ever do is snog nonstop. They don't even speak to each other."

"And right now I'm glad you don't have a boyfriend," Bobby muttered. "If it was up to me, you wouldn't have had a boyfriend until you're sixty. At least." Hermione let out a small laugh and he smiled at her. "Even if all they do is… _snog_, they still have each other. They are still in a relationship, and that's important. It's normal to want it."

"What does it matters?" she asked. "Even if you're right and I wanted a relationship, it doesn't matter. Nobody would ever want me."

Bobby frowned. "D'you really think that?" he asked.

"It's true," Hermione said. "I'm just a bushy-haired bookworm with buck teeth and an annoying attitude."

"Come here," he said, lifting her to her feet and taking her to the bathroom where they stood in front of the mirror. "What do you see when you look at yourself?" he asked.

Hermione took a moment to process her reflection. "My hair looks like a nest," she said. "And I have a huge zit on my chin. My body…" she sighed. "It's nothing special. I'm not fat, but I'm not thin either. My boobs aren't big. I'm just… normal."

"That's not what I see," Bobby said. "When I look at you, I see a beautiful young woman. Your hair… it's not wavy but it isn't curly, either. It's something special, just for you. You're not fat, but you're not all skin and bones. When I look at you, I see a million little things that, together, make you perfect."

"I'm anything but perfect," she said, pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"In my eyes, you are," Bobby replied. "And someday, somebody will come, and they will see you as perfect, as well. If they don't, they're not good enough for you." Bobby seemed to realize what he just said so he quickly added, "But not before you're sixty, yeah?"

A door bursting open and the footsteps of one who was not a child anymore disturbed the sound of Hermione's soft laughter.

"Mya!" Dean called, lifting her up and spinning her through the air. "We don't see you often enough."

"Well, I'm here now," Hermione replied with a smile, her hands automatically wrapping around Dean's neck. "There are so many things we need to do," she said excitedly as he let her down. "I can't believe I'm gonna miss your eighteenth birthday!" She pulled a face. "Forget that, I can't believe you _are_ eighteen!"

"Me neither," Dean laughed. "It's so weird."

"You're _old_!" Hermione laughed.

"I'm not old!" Dean protested. "I'm not that much older than you."

"Well, you're the one turning eighteen in a month," Sam said teasingly, walking through the door and giving Hermione a hug. He paused and looked at her for a moment. "You were crying," he said.

"What?" Dean asked, raising her head so he could see as well. "What happened?"

"Just something stupid at school," Hermione shrugged, giving Bobby a meaningful look not to tell them anything. "I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"I can always fly over and beat someone up for you," Dean suggested.

Hermione and Sammy immediately burst out laughing.

"I would have said something about you being so violent if I wouldn't have known there was no way you would _ever_ get on a plane," Hermione laughed.

"I would if someone hurt you," Dean said. "For you, I would."

Bobby looked at the scene that enrolled in front of him as Sam said another snarky remark about Dean's fear of flights and Dean retorted with revealing Sammy's fear of clowns to Hermione.

By the looks of it, someone who saw Mya as perfect had already arrived and was now pulling a face at her as she laughed with Sam. He really did mean what he'd said earlier – he could sleep better at night knowing Hermione was boyfriend-less, but if it had to happen someday he would rather it be Dean than, let's say, Ron.

All that was left now was for Dean and Hermione realize how much they meant to each other.

* * *

July 1997.

Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, reading today's newspaper and marking possible cases. Hermione looked at him for a moment before raising her wand and pointing it at his back, the spell on the tip of her tongue.

All of the protection spells were already in place – most of them done by the Order but a couple more she had found during her research during the past year were added, just to be safe.

There was only one thing left to do – something she mentally prepared herself for since Dumbledore's funeral, when Harry told her and Ron he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts the next year. She was stalling and she knew she wasted enough time already, waiting until after Sam and Dean came to visit for the summer.

They talked about the usual things. Laughed about the usual things. Saw movies the way they always did. Everything was normal, just like it had been during Christmas and many summers before. None of them seemed to notice something was wrong, other than Hermione.

So, on their last day there, she didn't move from Dean's side for a moment – excluding things one simply _must_ do in private, mind you. They had the best day either of them ever remembered having, and that night, before their departure again, Hermione built up her courage.

"You're a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake!" she told herself. "Start acting like one!"

"What is it, Mya?" Dean asked as she pulled him aside.

"Nothing!" she replied just a bit too quickly. Just a bit too enthusiastically. "I just… I don't know when will be the next time I see you." _If I see you again. If I even live long enough for that to happen._ She pushed the negative thoughts away from her mind. Today was perfect, and she wouldn't let anything ruin it for her. "Anyway, there's something I've wanted to do for a while now, and I wanted to do it now. You know, just in case I won't get another chance."

"What is it?" Dean asked, and a soft blush rose to Hermione's cheeks.

"Just…" she mumbled. "Just this."

And with that, she stood on her tiptoes to reach his height and kissed him.

The first thing Dean noticed was that she wasn't a very good kisser. Her mouth was open a bit too much, and she pressed against him too strongly. But then it was all gone as his mind finally comprehended the situation he was in and realized that Hermione was kissing him.

_Hermione Singer_. Kissing _him_. He never thought that would happen. He never thought she wanted it to happen. But there she was. _Kissing_ him.

He pressed back against her, putting one hand on her waist while the other skillfully directed her face to him. Her hands rested on his chest and, for a moment, they simply existed.

All too soon, she pulled away. Her hand guided his away from her waist. Her face broke free from his guidance. Then, they stood for a moment and looked at each other.

"Wow," she said breathlessly.

Her only kiss until then was with Victor Krum under the mistletoe. It was cute and sweet, but nothing so _consuming_ as this. Had she known this was how she would feel after kissing Dean, she would have done it long ago.

"Yeah," Dean said, smiling. "I'm glad you did it."

The words caused Hermione to step back. There was a reason she did it. There was a _war_ going on. This kiss… as much as she wanted it to be the first of many, she knew it couldn't happen.

She wasn't likely to ever return, and getting emotionally attached to somebody would only cause heartbreak to all parties involved.

"Goodbye, Dean," she whispered sadly, running up to her room before he had the chance to reply.

That all happened last night. That was yesterday. And now, she was pointing her wand at her father, getting herself ready to _Obliviate_ him – possible unrepairable – just as Bobby felt another presence in the room with him and turned to look at her.

"Mya?"

Hermione fell down to her knees, tears forming in her eyes and falling on her cheeks as she wept uncontrollably. Bobby neared her with a heavy heart and pulled her into a hug, realizing what she wanted to do, but couldn't bring herself to.

"I'll be safe here, you know," he said.

"I won't be," she told him. "I might die. I may never return. You might sit here for years, not knowing what I was doing and if I were even alive. Wouldn't it be easier if you just… didn't know I ever existed?"

"No," Bobby replied. "Never. I'd rather live the rest of my life not knowing if you were even alive, but at least having the memories. It's better than nothing. And besides, what would you have thought was going to happen the next time Dean and Sam, or Rufus, or Ellen would have dropped by and asked about you and I wouldn't know who you were?"

"I was planning to send you to Australia," Hermione mumbled sheepishly.

"And when I would have returned, what would I have told them all?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I wasn't thinking so far ahead." She lowered her glance. "I wasn't thinking I would ever return to undo the curse."

"Is that why you kissed Dean last night?" Bobby asked, much to Hermione's surprise and horror. "What, did you think I didn't know? It was due to happen years ago."

Hermione took a deep breath. "There is a war. One I seem to be on the losing side of. And, as sad as it is, I am not likely to live to see the end of it. I just don't want to put you in danger."

Bobby sighed sadly. "You are so much like your mother," he said. "So much, that sometimes it hurts. But there is one difference. I'm not going to let you walk away. I am going to _fight_ for you, tooth and nail. Even if it's a losing battle."


	17. Apart

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

April 1998.

Dean Thomas was shaken awake from his restless slumber, as he was every night since they found refuge in the Shell Cottage nearly two weeks earlier. He opened his eyes to see a tired-looking Fleur looking at him sadly.

"It's happening again," was all she said and he walked out of the room he shared with Harry and Ron and into the smaller room Luna and Hermione stayed at.

"Dean!" the latter called out. "Dean!"

"Mione," he said, holding on to her hand. "It's just a dream. Wake up, it's just a dream."

After a couple of minutes, she seemed to hear him as she finally left the realm of nightmares and her eyes focused on him.

"Dean?" she asked.

"Still the wrong one," he muttered, and then he held her as she cried.

It was almost a ritual now. At first, when she started screaming the name, panicking and twisting in her sleep, Harry and Ron were on their feet as they grabbed him towards her. As soon as she woke up, he started talking to her softly, finally extracting the information from her.

He was the wrong Dean.

He didn't take offense of it – it was clear to him from the moment he was pulled to his feet that he wasn't the one she was calling to. Instead, they walked together to the kitchen where he made them both a hot cup of chocolate milk, and they sat and talked.

Some nights, she preferred to go back to sleep. Others, they sat outside and looked at the starry night until dawn rose over the horizon. And, occasionally, she let him take her to the kitchen and they talked over hot chocolate milk.

Tonight was one of the last kind.

"Bellatrix tried to look into my mind to see if I was lying to her," she admitted. "If I hadn't practiced Occlumency since Harry tried to learn it, she would have succeeded."

"But she didn't," Dean told her.

"But she almost did," Hermione replied. "I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if she had – what she might have seen. My dad, Dean, Sammy, John, Rufus… even Ellen and Jo. They're all unprotected. She could reach them so easily."

"By what you told me, your dad is anything but unprotected," Dean said. "And by what I understand about the others, they all know how to protect themselves."

"What chance do they have against the end of a wand?" Hermione questioned. "They are helpless against the Death Eaters' cruelty, and even talented witches and wizards are no real match for Bellatrix."

"They're safe," he said. "She can't reach them."

"But she almost did."

They sat quietly for a couple of minutes before Hermione spoke again.

"There are moments I just wish she would have killed me," she quietly said. "Then, I wouldn't feel all of this pain. I'm always upset with myself afterwards, because I promised my dad I would do everything I could to come back."

"It's okay to feel this way," Dean told her. "Sometimes, you're allowed to simply be… tired."

"I miss him," she said, and Dean didn't need to ask to know who this "him" she was talking about was. "Isn't it odd? There were times I didn't see him for the whole school year, but now I miss him."

"I miss Seamus," Dean said. "At least you know he feels the same way – I don't even have that."

"I swear to you, if we live past this war and you don't tell Seamus how you feel, I will personally kill you."

He laughed. "You don't have to worry about that," he told her. "If we live past this war, I will make sure he knows exactly how I feel. Even if he doesn't feel the same way."

When morning arrived and waking people joined them in the kitchen, Hermione always felt ashamed at how she acted during the night. She was eighteen years old – nearing nineteen, really – and she should know better than to have night terrors.

Dean kept telling her he didn't mind, though, and Harry and Ron were also very supportive. Bill and Luna didn't seem to mind and even Fleur, who Hermione was afraid would be upset for disturbing her "Beauty Sleep" or something equally ridiculous, brushed all apology away.

"Eet doesn't matter that I sleep all night if you don't," she told the younger witch. "Now stop apologizing and eat your breakfast."

And so, even though nothing was even remotely normal and things didn't look like they were ever going to be alright, and even though Hermione didn't know if she'd ever feel secure enough to sleep a whole night, she still felt safe.

As odd as it was.

* * *

"She's walking out of town!" John called, causing Dean and Sam to run after him, pistols in hand.

They spent Easter break in this town, following the trails of suspicious events that made them think of Witchcraft involvement. It was now nearly a week after the end of the break, and they only just managed to track the witch.

And she was heading out of town.

They caught up to her, just barely, and in time to see her meeting someone who seemed like her husband, and three kids. It wasn't part of their plan – they didn't think about a whole _family_ of witches.

"Mary, take the kids and run!" the husband said as he saw Sam and Dean, but as the woman – Mary – turned around, she could only see John standing behind them.

The parents put their children between the two of them, and looked at the three hunters with undisguised fear.

"Please," the man said, grabbing tighter on a piece of wood he held in his hand. "We don't want any troubles."

"You should have thought of that sooner," John said.

"You don't understand – we're not the same kind of witches you're hunting," Mary said, her British accent thick. "We're wand-carriers… see?" She marked at the piece of wood her husband held. "My name is Mary Cattermole. This is my husband, Reginald and our children Maisie, Ellie and Alfred. We were born with our magic – please, you've got to believe us."

"There's no such thing as wand-carriers," John said harshly.

From next to him, Dean could sense Sam's lack of confidence.

"There is," Reginald said. "I swear to you, there is."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Dean questioned. "Clearly, you're not from here."

"There's a wizarding war going on back home," Reginald told them. "There's someone here, in the US, who offers protection to Muggleborn witches and wizards – ones whose parents were not magical," he clarified as he saw the look of confusion on Dean's face.

"I'm one of those," Mary said, "and I am hunted back home. You must know the man who helped us – he's a hunter, too. What was his name?"

"Bobby," Reginald said and John's eyes widened. "Bobby Singer."

"You know Bobby?" John questioned.

"We don't really know him," Reginald replied. "We only met him once, when we arrived and he told us what to do in order to remain under the radar. But his daughter was the one who freed Mary."

"How the hell do you know Hermione?" Dean questioned.

"Everybody knows Hermione Singer," one of the kids said, surprised that he didn't know. "She a Muggleborn like mummy, and she's one of Harry Potter's best friends. The say she's the Brightest Witch of her Age!"

Dean didn't even notice when the gun fell from his hand. He was too busy staring at the little girl who spoke, trying to understand if she was kidding him or if she was simply stupid. Sammy and John seemed to be quite the same, only they managed to keep their pistols in their hands.

"_What_?" John finally hissed.

"Please," Mary repeated. "We didn't do anything. We just want to live. Please."

"Leave before I change my mind," John said, nodding curtly at the Cattermoles and looking at Dean and Sam as the family of five ran away. "Come on, boys. We have a chat to have with Bobby."

When they finally reached Bobby's house, a day and a half later, they could just hear the sound of an argument inside.

"What the hell were you thinking?" a gruff voice called.

"I had my damn reasons!" Bobby called back.

"Stay here," John ordered, walking out of the car. "That's an order, Dean," he added when he saw his son was about to argue and the nineteen year old nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said, even if somewhat reluctantly, and John walked inside.

"What d'you need?" Bobby asked as soon as he saw him, stopping arguing with Rufus and looking at him.

"What I _need_ is to know why are there a bunch of witches here, claiming you're protecting them," John replied and Rufus looked at Bobby with a glint of victory in his eyes.

"See?" he asked. "I'm not the only one who's pissed!"

"They're wand carriers," Bobby said, seeming like he had said the sentence so many times the mere sound of it was too much for him. "They didn't make a deal."

"It doesn't matter!" Rufus called. "Every corner I look, I see another one!"

"There's no such thing as wand-carriers," John said. "It's just a myth."

"I thought so, too," Bobby said. "But it's not. It's real and –"

"Was Sirius one of those sons of bitches, too?" John questioned. "What next, are we going to hear you hosted werewolves for dinner?"

"You don't understand –" Bobby started but Rufus cut him off.

"Wait, you did?" he asked. "What the hell is wrong with you, Bobby?"

"This is bigger than what you think!" Bobby called. "There's a war going on over there! Just like there was one in the seventies, when we all found it easier to just look away. Well, Mya grew up without her mom because we looked away and I won't let it happen to anybody else!"

"You've lost your mind," John said. "You completely lost it. _There's no such thing as wand-carriers_!"

"There is!" Bobby insisted. "I know that because Mya's a witch, and she didn't sell her soul for anything at age eleven!"

"You've been keeping it from us for so long?" John questioned. "Your own _daughter_ is a witch and you _dare_ to call yourself a hunter?"

"She's not that kind of witch –"

"There's only one kind of witch," John said coldly. "And I swear to you, the next time I see _any_ witch, I'll kill them. Even if it's your daughter."

As soon as the words left his mouth, all three people in the room knew it was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, there was a shotgun in Bobby's hand, and it was pointed at John's head.

"Get out of my house, now," he ordered. "Both of you. Get the hell out of here."

"Bobby…" Rufus started.

"I said, _get out_!" Bobby called, so angry that the other hunters obliged, walking outside and driving away as he called after them, "And I swear if I ever see you again, I'll shoot you dead!"

* * *

**A/N:**** So I knew right from the start this would be how Dean and Sam would find out... Don't hate me. I have a very big, elaborated plan.**


	18. Aftereffect

**A/N:**** Just something small to wrap up the HP part of this story... Next chapter starts with a time-leap to September of 2002, where a lot of interesting things are due to happen.**

**Also - 28 reviews for the last chapter? That's a record broken!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

May 1998.

The morning after what would later be known as the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione woke up with a heavy heart and a killer headache. The events of last night came rushing to her all at once, and she stumbled towards the bathroom and twitched as the contents of her stomach emptied themselves.

Breaking into Gringotts, flying away on the dragon, coming back to Hogwarts after all this time and the battle. So much death all around them – Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Snape and even Colin Creevey… and, for a couple of minutes, she thought Harry was to be added to that list, as well.

Neville killed Nagini and the battle resumed – fighting against Bellatrix, Molly rushing in and killing her, and then Harry was there, too, revealing Snape's identity as a spy and killing Voldemort, once and for all.

She vomited again.

Slowly, she managed to get back to her feet and walked back to the room where she spent the night. She shared a bed with Ginny and Luna, all three of them comforted at the closeness of another human being to tell them they were, in fact, alive. All three of them waking up more than once during the night – screaming, terrified and even crying.

The other girls were still in bed. Ginny's ginger hair sprawled on the pillow reminded Hermione of Ron, and of the kisses they shared last night.

She didn't know what to think about it. She cared for Ron very much, and knew he would always be one of her best friends, but she couldn't help but compare the kisses to the one she shared with Dean.

Dean, whose mere touch on her skin made butterflies go crazy in her stomach. Dean, whose eyes were beautiful and comforting, soothing her back to sleep. Dean, whose name she called when she was most distressed since Malfoy Manor. Dean, who told her he wished she'd kissed him sooner.

Dean, who had no idea of what was going on.

Hermione decided to travel back to America by plane, rather than by Floo, and used the time to think about what she was going to tell her dad when she finally saw him again. A million scripts crossed her mind but she still couldn't settle on one when she stood in front of her childhood home and knocked worriedly on the door.

A few moments passed before it swung open and she saw the familiar, grumpy face.

"What do you –" he started, but paused at the sight of her. "Mya?" he questioned in disbelief.

At the sound of his voice, Hermione gave up on the scripts in her mind and simply threw her arms around his neck.

"Daddy!" she cried, back to being a six-year-old girl who fell and got hurt for the first time, rather than the eighteen-year-old woman she was today.

His arms wrapped around her as he held her tight, as if he were afraid to let go and discover she wasn't real. They stood on the threshold for what seemed like hours until she ran out of tears.

"What happened?" Bobby asked when she calmed down enough to enter the house. "What have you been through during that year?"

"War," she said simply.

Bobby sighed. "You need to tell me what happened, Mya," he said. "You can't keep it all inside.

"Why?" she questioned.

"Cause you'll break," he replied.

She looked at her feet, thinking about how she still couldn't sleep since Malfoy Manor and whispered, "I'm already broken."

"Not on my watch," Bobby said, sitting next to her on the couch. "Now, if you want, I still have that Firewhiskey you bought me last summer. How 'bout we down it and you tell me what you've been going through?"

Hermione nodded and raised her wand, summoning the bottle and two glasses. She poured one glass of the flaming liquid for herself and one for Bobby, and they both downed it before she started the tale.

She told him about the previous year, the reason she left without saying goodbye and even about Malfoy Manor. When she reached the part where Bellatrix tortured her, she thought she was going to break down again, but her father's firm hold of her and the burn of the Firewhiskey in her throat kept her focused on the present.

"I'll kill that bitch," he whispered angrily when she showed him the scar on her arm.

"Molly did it already," she replied and respect for the ginger witch rushed through him.

It took nearly three hours, an incredible amount of tears from both of them and the entire bottle, but she reached the battle over Hogwarts, and the events in the days that followed before she came back home.

"If I'd known," Bobby told her, "I'd never let you out of my sight."

"That's exactly why you couldn't have known, daddy," Hermione said. "It was a war I had to be a part of, because it was about the right of me and my likes to live. I couldn't just run away from it."

"Well, you're home now," Bobby said. "You're here, and you're safe. And I'm gonna sure as hell make sure it stays that way."

_She was home,_ Hermione realized as she rested her head on her father's shoulder, allowing him to envelope her in a comforting, protecting hug. And as she slowly drifted into sleep, she realized it really was all that mattered.

* * *

July 1998.

The next two months passed in a haze for Hermione. Funerals, ceremonies, Weasley family dinners, all tangled into one another, becoming an era of grief, sadness and pain in her mind, rather than the victory glee everybody were expecting.

Every time she returned home with Bobby, he watched her crumble to the floor as pain overwhelmed her once more. After he calmed her down, she'd sit by the window, or on the porch, and just stare for hours on end.

More than once, he woke up in the middle of the night to see she fell asleep on the chair next to the window, her head tilted uncomfortably as she snuggled into the leather jacket Sirius gave her. None of them spoke about it, but they both knew she was looking and waiting for a black Impala to drive in.

Other than those moments, he didn't leave her side for a second. Every event she had to show up at, every ceremony she had to speak at, he was there. Watching her. Keeping an eye on her. Trying to convince himself that it was real, that he wasn't just imagining it, that his Mya was _there_.

People he hid during the past year came to him. The American Ministry worked along with the list of names he gave them, and other than a few individuals all of the Muggleborn managed to get back home.

Hermione and he kept repeating it as a mantra. _It doesn't matter that the hunters are mad at you. Most of them don't even know the truth. It doesn't matter that John took Dean and Sammy away. Lives were saved._

Most days, they managed to convince themselves of that.

And just as Bobby never said anything about the way Mya waited for Dean, she didn't say anything when he hung up the phone angrily after Rufus called him yet again. Things may have not been the same – and they may never be – but they were together, and safe, and it made them as happy as they could be.

And it was enough.

On that specific day, second of July and exactly two months after the Battle of Hogwarts, they both dressed at their best.

Hermione took the time to hand-braid her hair the way Ginny taught her to during the summer between her third and fourth year, and she neatly tied her father's tie. Together, they Flooed to the Ministry of Magic.

It took them all of a couple of seconds to find Harry and Ron. The two were standing next to Andromeda who was holding a three-month-old Teddy in her hand. As soon as the baby noticed she was there, his hair turned brown and bushy.

"Mione!" Harry called, a smile covering his face and contradicting everything she knew he was feeling at that moment. "Glad you came."

"I couldn't really miss it, could I?" she asked, trying to keep as much of the poison out of her voice as she could.

"Hermione," Ron greeted, and she smiled nervously back at him.

He realized she needed time to herself after everything that happened and that she wanted to spend time with her dad, and he felt the same way about his own family, but they both set up a deadline.

They dragged it along for as long as they could, but today, once the ceremony was over, they were going to finally sit down and talk about the fact that they kissed during the battle. Hermione didn't know where this conversation would lead to but she knew that no matter what happened, she and Ron would remain friends.

Experiences like the ones they had been through were something that made friends for life, regardless of anything else that happened along the way.

"It's time to begin," Kingsley – or, as Hermione should start referring to him, Minister Shacklebolt – said, and everyone sat down.

From the corner of her eyes, Hermione could see Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan holding hands as they sat down, and warmth filled her heart, along with sadness. For everyone, it was so simple. Only for her, it was not.

Kingsley started by greeting the present, and reminding them of why they were there – now, that the trials after the war were over, Order of Merlins were to be given. They started with Second Class Order, given to all of those who fought against the Death Eaters in the final battle.

Andromeda passed Teddy to Hermione's hands when her daughter's name was called and she walked to the stage, but they were all baffled when Remus' name wasn't heard. _That must mean…_ Hermione realized, and the smile on her face was as wide as it could be.

"Receiving Order of Merlin, First Class, are the following," Kingsley said in his deep, loud voice. "For his actions during the First Wizarding War, the Second Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts, we present an Order of Merlin, First Class to Remus John Lupin."

The entire crowd was on their feet as they clapped, and Andromeda nudged Hermione, who was still holding Teddy, to get up on the stage and take it.

"I couldn't…" Hermione started, but then more people pushed her forwards and she found herself on the stage, holding Lupin's Order of Merlin in one hand and Teddy in the other. "Your daddy was a hero," she told the sleeping boy, whose hair was the same sandy color as his father's.

"For the founding and management of _Potterwatch_, which was the only reliable radio program during the Second Wizarding War, we present an Order of Merlin, First Class, to Lee Daniel Jordan."

The crowd was on their feet once again, calling out for Lee as he walked up on the stage. He seemed surprised that his actions granted him the prize, but was also too excited to pay attention.

"For assisting in the hideout of 79 different Muggleborn witches and wizards and their families, with cooperation with the American Minister of Magic, we present an Order of Merlin, First Class to Robert Steven Singer." Kingsley's eyes showed nothing but warmness as the crowd pushed a clearly surprised Bobby up on the stage. "He is also the first Muggle to have ever received an Order of Merlin award."

"Thank you, Minister," Bobby said respectfully as he shook Kingsley's hand and walked down from the stage.

"And, lastly," a small smile crossed Kingsley's face. "For their actions during the Second Wizarding War, their hunt after Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, their actions in the Ministry of Magic, in Godric's Hollow, in Malfoy Manor, Gringotts and during the Battle of Hogwarts, up until the final defeat of Lord Voldemort, we present three Order of Merlin, First Class awards. For Hermione Jean Singer, Ron Billius Weasley and Harry James Potter."

If Hermione thought that the way the crowd clapped earlier was loud, she was entirely amazed as her name was called. If it wasn't for the charm, Kingsley's voice wouldn't have been heard at all.

She stood up, one hand holding Harry's as his other held Ron's, and they walked up on stage together. They received their awards and stood there, watching at all of the people who could sleep better at night now that Voldemort had been defeated, people whose lives they saved.

And for a moment, when Hermione repeated her small mantra in her head, saying it was all worth it since lives were saved, she actually believed it.


	19. Stanford

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

September 2002.

"Singer!"

Hermione's head twirled around as she looked up from the stack of papers she was filling about her latest mission. The source of the voice was Anthony Dexter, one of her coworkers at the American Ministry of International Law Enforcement.

"What?" she called back. "I'm busy!"

"Kook wants you in his office!" Dexter said.

Hermione looked at the clock, seeing it was half past noon. "I think he broke a record!" she said. "I'm here for all of five hours."

"You don't know if he's sending you for another mission," said Patricia Lindbergh from the desk alongside hers.

"It's Kook," Hermione replied, standing up and walking towards her boss's office. "He's sending me for another mission.

The years after the war weren't easy on anybody, and Hermione wasn't excluded from that. She helped rebuilding Hogwarts, finished her education and applied for a job at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Being who she was, every single one of the laws she wanted to pass went through faster than the regular channels, and so Hermione was faced, for the first time in her life, with a new problem.

"I'm bored," she sighed, falling on the sofa in Harry and Ginny's flat.

Ron was sitting on the couch across from her, and Harry was next to her. Each of them had a Butterbeer, and they were talking as they did every Friday night. She and Ron tried to make things work between the two of them, but something didn't seem right.

It wasn't _physical_ attraction that was the problem – there was plenty of that, thank you very much – but both of them knew that there was something missing. They broke up with the promise to remain friends – a promise they managed to maintain even years later.

"What happened?" Ron asked at that particular moment. "I thought you're used to things being too easy for you."

"But never like that," she said with a pointed look and a smile. "I _did_ work hard to do as well as I did at school. At the Department, if I just sneeze six different people bring me a tissue."

"Well, maybe you should think of a change of scene," Harry suggested.

"Like what?" Ron asked.

"I heard some rumors at the office that they're looking for British workers at the Ministry of International Law Enforcement in America," he replied. "If you'd take it, you could see your dad more often."

"Go back to America?" Hermione questioned. "I don't know… my whole life is here."

"It doesn't necessarily have to change," Ron said thoughtfully. "You can be at the office there and be closer to your dad, and we'll Floo over if we wanted to meet. We'll have owls – and don't think mum will let you off from Sunday dinners."

"Only it would be my lunch," Hermione noted.

"To-ma-to, to-mah-to," Ron told her. "Go to the interview. And if you think this job would make you happy, take it. As simple as it is."

So she did. And she loved every moment of it.

For the first couple of months, everybody at the department thought that the British Ministry was overreacting. Some of the men there were twice her age with three times the experience. But as soon as she proved herself, she was assigned to the undercover Auror unit.

Due to her young age, her Muggle parentage and the fact that her accent could be both British and American if she needed it to, her department chief sent her on missions constantly. It wasn't uncommon for her to spend the first couple of days of a mission still recovering from the last one's paperwork.

But five hours since she returned from her last mission was a new record even for him.

"You called for me?" she asked as she opened the door to his office and walked inside.

"I have a tricky couple of cases here," he said. "Attacks in Stanford – I don't know if it's Muggle terrorism, Death Eater leftovers or the things your daddy hunts."

"Where d'you need me?" Hermione questioned, looking through the casefiles.

"You're going to be a student," Kook replied. "Keep things as simple as possible – your name and history are the same, we've already forged your documents and enrolled you into Literature classes – Modern, Classic and Teen Literature. You'll be able to keep a normal life during that time – allowed all contact, visitors, creating friendships."

"Where will I be staying?"

"We've set you up with a roommate. As normal as they can get. You have two days to pack yourself up."

"Well, it seems like I'm going back to school," Hermione smiled. "Here's one thing I'm good at."

She spent the next two days collecting her belongings from her apartment and paying that month's rent while informing her landlord that she probably wouldn't be returning anytime soon. She finished her paperwork, making sure to double-check it so that she wouldn't have to think about it once she started her studying.

Two days later, at seven am precisely, she showed up in her office, her old school-trunk filled with everything she thought she might need, and a bit more to remind herself of home – muggle pictures of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Teddy, the Weasleys and her friends from school.

"Ready?" Kook asked.

"Yes," she replied confidently. "How will we be getting there?"

"I thought that travel by car would be best," he said. "Be prepared for a long ride, though."

"You forgot I used to take the Hogwarts Express," she said with a small smile.

"_Express_ isn't the word I'd use to describe it," Kook laughed. "An eight hour train?"

"You're just spoiled because you studied at Salem and Flooed home every day."

"True," he replied, opening the car door for her as she rolled her eyes.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"Shut up and get in the car," he grumbled.

"That's more like the Kook I know," she laughed, but obliged nonetheless.

True to what Kook said, the drive to Stanford University took most of the day and by the time they had gotten there it was already eight pm. He helped her things out of the car and insisted on carrying her luggage to her room.

"You really didn't have to," she said honestly as they reached the room.

"It's usually polite to thank people when they do things for you," he replied jokingly. "Now open the damn door so I can get this damn thing inside already."

Smiling at him, Hermione played with the keys she received at reception and opened the door to reveal a small room with two beds, one of which already occupied.

"Hello!" the girl who sat on the bed called. "You must be my roommate. Do you need any help?"

"She would if she wouldn't move and let me through," Kook called out and Hermione stepped out of the way and let him put the trunk on her bed before he turned back to her.

"Thank you, again," she said.

"Don't mention it," Kook shrugged, pulling her into one of the rare hugs he always gave her when she headed off on a long-time mission. "Keep in touch and keep safe."

"You know I will," she told him, returning the hug before letting go as he walked away. "Have a safe drive back home!" she called as she turned back to her roommate. "Sorry about that, he's a bit of a handful sometimes."

"I can see," the other girl said with a smile. "Boyfriend?"

"Kook?" The thought brought a laugh to Hermione's lips. "No, no! He's just a good friend."

"If you say so," the girl shrugged. "I'm Jessica, by the way. But you can call me Jess."

"Hermione," she introduced herself.

"Like in a Midsummer Night's Dream?" Jess questioned. "I love that play!"

"So did my mom, apparently," Hermione laughed.

"Can I call you Hermia, then?"

A picture of Grawp, even years after she first met him and still calling her "Hermi" popped to her mind.

"No," she said determinedly. "My friends usually call me Mione, though."

"Mione it is," Jess smiled at her. "I'm going out with some friends tonight, would you like to join us?"

"I think I should unpack my things," Hermione said apologetically. "Maybe another day?"

"Tomorrow," Jess informed her. "It's not a question," she added as Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "You're coming."

And with that, she walked out of the room, leaving a very amused Hermione alone in the room. She unpacked her things and grabbed some Chinese for dinner before deciding to make it an early night and heading to bed.

Almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, she fell asleep.

_"I'm going to give you just one chance to answer me before it gets ugly," Bellatrix told her after Harry and Ron were taken to the dungeon, along with Dean Thomas and the goblins. "How did you get the sword?"_

_"We found it," Hermione said desperately._

_"Crucio!"_

_She couldn't keep the high-pitched, agonized scream that came out of her mouth inside._

_"Tell me the truth," Bellatrix ordered. "How did you get the sword?"_

_"I told you already, we –"_

_Another scream left her mouth as pain filled her entire entity, burning her from the inside before the curse was lifted from her once again._

_"You see, little Mudblood," Bellatrix said, "I know that's a lie. I know you didn't just 'find' the sword of Gryffindor. So you can make things easier for the both of us. Tell me the truth, and I'll make your death quick and painless."_

_"We found it," Hermione insisted._

_"LIES!" the older witch called, a maniac glint to her eyes. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"_

_"We found it – we found it – PLEASE!" Pain was all she felt, for so long that she couldn't even begin to form any other thoughts in her head._

_"You're lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!" Bellatrix said. "You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"_

_From somewhere underneath her, she could hear Ron's cries for her and it gave her just enough power to move on as Bellatrix pulled out a knife._

_"What else did you take?" she questioned. "What else have you got? Tel me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"_

_"Please," Hermione begged. "Please, don't…"_

_"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO_!"_

_Pain again, over and over again and she didn't think it would ever end until it did, but then Bellatrix was leaning next to her, carving into her arm._

_"How did you get into my vault?" she screamed angrily, trying to enter Hermione's mind. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"_

_"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed, blood pouring from her arm and onto the floor. "We've never been inside your vault… It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"_

Suddenly, the scream that called her name wasn't that distant anymore. As a matter of fact, it was close, and feminine, and probably belonged to whoever it was that was shaking her.

"Hermione!" Jess called and Hermione bolted up, her body shaking but her mind alert.

"I'm sorry," she said, traces of the fear she felt in her dream still vivid and real. "I hadn't had a nightmare in a very long time – I didn't think it would be a problem."

"It's okay," Jess told her, rubbing her hand soothingly on Hermione's back. "Are you alright?"

"I will be," Hermione replied, before forcing a smile. "Not quite the first impression I wanted to make on my first night here."

"Don't mention it," Jess said, before she seemed to remember there was another person in the room with them and she moved so that Hermione could look at him.

"Not exactly how I thought the two of you would meet each other," she admitted, "but to make matters short, since we're all tired – roommate, this is boyfriend. Boyfriend, this is roommate." She seemed to realize that none of them were listening to her, and that they were staring at each other instead. "Is everything fine?"

Hermione seemed to be the first one to rediscover her voice, the single word coming out as a strangled cry more than anything else.

"Sammy?"

* * *

**A/N:**** So I really hope I managed to explain everything that went on during that time-gap... you are all welcome to ask questions about it if there's something you don't understand.**

**Also - Sammy!**


	20. Sammy

**A/N:**** I'm sorry! I really did plan to post this yesterday but I'm having the most hectic week (About to becoome the most hectic _month_) and I didn't have time... The only reason I have time to post this today is because I overslept and missed my first class, and now I have free period.**

**I'd like to note _I Offer You My Soul In Ink_ for the cool pen-name.**

**Anyway, I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

September 2002.

Jess looked between Sam and Hermione with clear surprise.

"You two know each other?" she asked.

"We grew up together," Hermione replied, trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was _here_, and _she_ was here, after all those years. "Sammy is… was…"

"Mya's like a sister to me," Sam said quickly, and Hermione realized he was making sure Jess wouldn't see her as a threat to their relationship. "Our fathers were… _friends_ doesn't really describe it…"

"They tolerated each other for our sakes," Hermione completed the sentence.

"Until they stopped," Sam said darkly.

A frown settled itself on Hermione's face, and it took all of her well-practiced self-control not to note out that it was _John's_ fault that they stopped, and not Bobby's, as her father _did_ try to explain his and Mya's actions to the other hunter, but John _wouldn't listen_, and –

She was disturbed from her thoughts as a small smile crossed Jessica's features and she turned to look at Sam. "I thought nobody's allowed to call you 'Sammy'," she told her boyfriend.

"Nobody except for my family," Sam replied, smiling back at her. "And Mya's family. Though I haven't seen her since…"

"You were fourteen, I think," Hermione told him, quickly doing the math in her head. "It's been five years."

"Five years," Sam repeated, rubbing his temples. "Wow."

He opened his mouth to add something, but Hermione decided it was best to cut him off. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk about what happened during those five years.

"I should probably go back to sleep," she said apologetically. "Sorry again."

"It's alright," Jess told her kindly. "If you want to join us, Sammy and I were just about to watch a movie."

"What movie?"

"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone."

Hermione groaned aloud. When they figured out somebody was writing books about Harry's life, they tried to find the author and Obliviate her. After four times of that, when Rowling simply kept remembering, they gave up.

"There's a _movie_ now?" she asked.

"You don't like Harry Potter?" Jess questioned, amazed. "Who doesn't like Harry Potter?"

"Somebody whose name in Hermione Singer," Sam replied with a smile, and Hermione groaned again.

"Oh my god!" Jess exclaimed. "Have you got best friends named Harry and Ron, as well?"

"Yes…" Hermione muttered.

"This simply _can't_ get any better!" A third groan left Hermione's lips. "I suppose you won't be joining us for the movie?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, sending a glance in Sam's direction. She _did_ want to get to know her roommate and, even more than that, to spend time with Sam, after so many years without him. But he made a small, almost unnoticeable shake of his head and Hermione did her best to hide her sigh.

"I'll pass," she told Jess with a kind smile. "Thank you for the offer, though."

"Maybe we could meet up for lunch tomorrow, Mya?" Sam asked in a tone that rose no suspicions for Jess, but made Hermione's stomach twist nervously. "Catch up for the lost time?"

"Sure," she managed weekly, even though every fiber of her body told her to decline, before falling back on her bed as they left the room.

She couldn't sleep again that night.

* * *

The next day, Hermione paced nervously outside the restaurant she was supposed to meet Sam in for their lunch. It had been so long since they last met… and Bobby told her of the fallout between him and John. It wasn't pretty.

She was scared. She didn't know how Sam would accept her – and how would he react to the combination of who she was and the books about Harry. He knew the truth. She was certain of that much, at least.

How _couldn't_ he know? He met Sirius the summer between third and fourth year. He heard his story. Sirius Black wasn't a common name, and with all of the details the third book presented to them, about Wormtail, Remus…

She read them all, obviously. The combination of curiosity and her natural love of books didn't last long against her reluctance. She was grateful that Rowling cut off her explanation about her family – the author probably thought it was unimportant – but how else could somebody explain the nightmares she had afterwards? The picture she sent them of her Yule Ball with Victor Krum? Her actions after fourth year?

Her magic?

When Sam finally arrived, she sighed heavily, her feelings a mixture of relief and fear. He nodded at her as they walked in, and she couldn't help but remember how he used to always greet her with a hug. How she told him about the British Flu and distracted Dean so that John won't force him to learn how to hunt.

She didn't even want to think about Dean.

"So," she started hesitantly as they sat down, "how are you?"

"I know the books are real," he told her.

_Well,_ Hermione thought, _that escalated quickly._

"I thought you would," she sighed. "It wasn't that much of a big leap with you already knowing I was a witch." She could sense him tensing in front of her and was quick to explain, "I'm a wand carrier. The books explain it – I was born with my magic and –"

"I know," Sam said. "The witch we met – Cattermole – she and her husband told us all of that. Dad and Dean didn't believe it, but I did some extra research, which later led to finding the books."

Hermione felt her heart breaking at the mention of Dean.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" she asked.

"I think he's mostly hurt that you never told us," Sam replied.

"How would you have reacted if I had?" she questioned.

"He wouldn't have hated you," he said. "He cared about you too much for that."

"But he would have told John," Hermione sighed. "And you know how John reacted once he found out."

"He actually told us to stay in the car," Sam said. "All we know is that he went inside and that a couple of minutes later he and Rufus ran out and Bobby threatened to shoot them."

"That kinda gives you the main idea…" Hermione muttered. "Let's just say that he wasn't very excepting of it, and death threats against me were heard. And the fact that Dad hosted Remus – a _werewolf _ \- to dinner didn't help."

A smile crossed Sam's face. "You know a werewolf," he said. "I met an Animagus. You brewed Polyjuice Potion and fought a troll and found the Philosopher's Stone. That is so awesome."

"It's not all good, you know."

"Trust me, I know," Sam sighed. "Jessica's favorite character is Sirius, and to know… And now – I mean, then – when Voldemort had returned…"

"It gets worse," Hermione informed him.

"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine," Sam laughed.

"I'm not trying to be," she told him. "There was a war. People died. Harry and I take turns at caring for our Godson, since his grandmother is getting too old to do it, and his parents died. George lost an ear – and nearly his sanity. Merlin knows I still have nightmares. What you saw last night was just the tip of it."

"I can't believe you had to go through all of this," he sighed. "I hate myself because we weren't there to help you afterwards…"

"You were there for most of the hard parts of it," she said. "That got to count for something."

"But we still weren't there," he insisted. "Once the books came out and I realized how much you had gone through in only your first year, all without telling us… Let's just say I had a lot of anger against my dad even before that. Once I started realizing how mistaken he was with all that he said about you, it only gotten worse."

"Is that why you left?" she asked.

"Part of it," he said. "You know I never wanted to be a hunter, that I wanted to have a normal life. But I didn't choose to lose all contact with him. He was the one who told me that if I go out the door, I shouldn't bother to come back."

"Well, we always knew John wasn't an easy man to handle."

"Understatement of the century," Sam laughed.

Hermione smiled at him warmly, thinking that maybe – just maybe – their relationship wasn't beyond repair, before the smile wore off. "I was wondering," she started, "how is…"

"He's hunting with Dad, and sometimes alone." Sam told her. "You know how he's like." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "He dropped by last week – had a case nearby. If he's not far, I could check..."

"I honestly doubt it if he wants to see me," Hermione muttered.

"He does," Sam told her. "He just doesn't understand it yet."

"I kissed him," Hermione admitted. "The night you left – I took him aside and kissed him, and he kissed me back. And I haven't seen him since."

"You know how Dean's like," he said. "He pretends he doesn't care, but he actually does. During the time between the last time we saw you and when we found out the truth, he hadn't even looked at other girls. Dad never knew, but you were all Dean ever talked about."

"I just don't want to hurt him more than I already have," Hermione said.

"I think that at this point, you can't do much worse," he told her.

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "Why doesn't that makes me feel any better?"


	21. Two Worlds

**A/N:**** So, it's official. I have no more spare chapters, so from now on we're back to a Wednesdays only uploads rate. _However_, I'm going to start uploading my HG/RL time-travel story this Sunday (I know it wasn't the one most people voted for, but I have 13.5 chapters there and not one, like the other one) and I will upload it twice a week.**

**Also looking for a beta for that one, so if anybody's interested, PM me :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

November 2002.

Hermione looked at the assignment she had received in her Modern Teen literature class. "Explain the change Sirius Black's character had been through as it transformed from being an Antagonist to a Protagonist in the third Harry Potter book."

"Dear Merlin," she muttered under her breath, twisting her pen in her hand and wishing she had a quill to chew on.

_Starting as a classical Antagonist – Known to be evil, wishes to harm the main character, etc. – Sirius Black makes a series of actions that would seem, without any additional knowledge, to support the accusations against him. However, after taking a closer look at his actions, one can see that they were never aimed directly at the character he was supposed to harm._

She sighed, looking at what she had written so far and knowing that she had to make that paragraph at least twice as long of she wanted her essay to be of a legitimate length.

She rubbed her temples, thinking, and almost called out in relief as her phone rang.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you called," she informed Harry. "Now I can procrastinate my essay."

"Hermione Singer, not doing her homework?" Harry asked, a smile clear in his voice. "Did the world end and I somehow missed it?"

"It's about Sirius' transfer as a character from an Antagonist to a Protagonist," she said. "Kill me now."

"Write about Crookshanks," Harry suggested. "With him being a half-Kneazle, and very intelligent…"

"I miss the old cat," Hermione said fondly, before shaking herself out of her thoughts. "Anyway, I don't think you called to help me with my homework."

"I didn't," Harry verified. "Ginny said yes."

"She did?" Hermione asked, excited. "Oh, Harry! That's incredible!"

"I know!" he replied, laughing. "For now the only ones who know are you, Ron and Luna. It's going to be held at early July and Ginny asked me to tell you you're her Maid of Honor."

"I…" Hermione muttered. "Wow. Tell her I'd be honored. I suppose I would host Teddy for some time after that, so that you two could have your honeymoon in peace?"

"If it's no problem," Harry said. "I don't want to disturb your mission or anything…"

"Oh, hush," she said. "He's my godson, too. I'd love to host him here, I just need to make sure Jess doesn't mind."

"How _are_ things with Jess and Sam?" Harry asked.

"Things are good," she replied. "I'm starting to fall back into routine with Sammy, and Jess is lovely."

"And Dean?"

Hermione swallowed hard at the sound of his name. "He knows I'm here," she finally said.

"Did you see him?" Harry asked, curious.

"No," she said. "Sam talked to him a couple of weeks ago, when Dean worked a case nearby. He said he might come to visit so Sammy told him I'm here, too."

"And…?"

"And he didn't come to visit."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, feeling sad on her behalf.

"Don't be," she said. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Neither did you," he replied.

"I lied," she retorted.

"For a good reason," he told her. "And if Sam could forgive you, so can Dean."

"I didn't kiss Sam," she said.

"More the reason for Dean to forgive you."

Hermione sighed. "You're insufferable," she informed him.

"But you love me," he said.

"And I keep asking myself why."

* * *

March 2003.

It was almost symbolic. So annoyingly predictable that Hermione didn't as much as stopped to think about it. After all, it was inevitable that he would choose _that day_, of all days, to attack.

And when Teddy came to visit, too.

It was a tradition the two of them had since before he could remember. Every year, on Remus' birthday, they would meet at wherever it was that Hermione was living this time and eat ice-cream, as Hermione would tell him everything she could recall about his father.

This time, she felt sentimental, so she told him about the time Remus came by for dinner with Bobby, Sirius and herself, the summer between her third and fourth year.

"Werewolf McWerewolf?" six-year-old Teddy repeated, laughing. "Papa Bobby actually said that?"

"Damn straight, he did," Hermione said, eating her strawberry ice-cream.

"And what did you say?" Teddy asked eagerly.

"_Well, Daddy, to give you a headache, of course_," Hermione said in a soft, innocent voice, sending herself and her godson to another round of uncontrollable laughter. "It's getting late," she said once they calmed down. "We should start heading back to my room."

"How long do you think you'll be staying here?" he asked, getting up and walking with her through the campus.

"As long as I need to," she said. "There were a couple more attacks and I'm starting to see a pattern, but I still have to dig into it."

"What's the pattern?" he questioned.

"Nothing important for you, cub," she said softly.

Teddy was quiet for a couple of moments before saying, "It's a werewolf, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed. This boy was too smart for his own good. "It is," she admitted reluctantly.

"Are you going to kill him?" he asked.

"Not unless I have to," she promised, pulling him closer to her and hugging him as they walked. "But from the looks of it, he seems dangerous, and he's hurting people. if it's a Magical werewolf, I could just arrest him and bring him to the Magical authorities, but if it's not…"

Teddy swallowed nervously. "Not all werewolves are bad," he finally said.

"I know it," she said. "You know I do. And you also know that I don't kill unless I absolutely have to."

They kept walking for a couple of minutes in silence before Hermione noticed Teddy's yawns were getting more and more frequent. Smiling to herself, she picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to her room as he dosed off on her shoulder.

As she reached her room, she carefully shifted him so that she could get her key, when she noticed the door was open. Pulling out her wand, she put Teddy on the ground and softly woke him up. She was about to tell him to stay quiet and stay outside, when the hoarse voice spoke from the inside.

"I know you're there," Fenrir Greyback said. "And I know the cub's there, too. Come in and bring him, or I'll kill the girl."

_Jess._

Hermione grabbed Teddy's hand and slowly entered the room, making sure he was behind her at all times. As she walked in, she saw Sam lying unconscious on the floor and Jess ties up and gagged on one of the chairs, a knife pressed to her throat.

"Put the wand down," Greyback ordered. Looking worryingly at Jess, Hermione obeyed. "Good girl," he said teasingly.

From behind her, Hermione could feel Teddy tensing and tightening his grip on her hand in fear.

"Everything's gonna be okay," she told him.

"You sound very confident for someone unarmed and with no backup," Greyback said.

"How do you know I don't have backup?" she asked.

"I've been following you for quite some time," he replied. "You had your suspicions, but you weren't certain. And when I saw you leaving tonight – with the cub, no less – and leaving your roommate and her boyfriend so vulnerable, I just couldn't resist myself. After all," he drawled, "today is a very _special_ day."

"Go to hell," she said.

"Did you know," Greyback went on, addressing Teddy who was attempting to hide behind Hermione, "that exactly forty years ago, I bit your daddy?"

"Don't talk about my dad!" Teddy said, anger slipping through the fear.

"But I did," Greyback told him. "It was his third birthday. So small and unprotected, and right after his father tried to lock me up for what I am…"

"Cut the crap," Hermione said, her voice shaking but her stance tall and confident. "I know you're not here for story time. What do you want?"

"Revenge," Greyback said. "Because of you, I'm hunted. My pack turned against me, started following the _wizards_," he spat the word as if it was sour in his mouth, "because of the rules _you_ passed."

"You're hunted because of what you've done," Hermione said. "Not because of me."

"You're not as smart as they make you seem, do you?" Greyback asked, pressing the knife to Jessica's throat. "Talking to me like that when I have your friend at my mercy."

"Let her go!" Hermione called. "She didn't do anything!"

"Fine," he said. Hermione almost let out a sigh of relief when he added, "But only if you beg for it."

They stared at each other for a couple of moments before Hermione broke down. "You got me," she said weakly. "I'm begging. Please, let her go."

Greyback smiled and took the knife off Jess' throat and Hermione was able to breathe again, though her grip on Teddy's hand only tightened. Greyback moved towards them and Hermione shifted so that she stood as a complete barrier between the werewolf and the child.

"Don't worry," Greyback crooned. "I won't hurt him. Probably."

"We won't get the chance to find out, since you aren't getting anywhere near him," she spat.

"We'll see about that," he smiled, revealing a line of yellow teeth. "Oh, the things I'd do to you… and I'll enjoy it, too…"

He took another step towards her, stepping out of reach to both Sam and Jess, and Hermione acted.

She let go of Teddy's hand and pushed him out the door, closing it behind him to keep him safe. Then, she pulled out the silver knife she hid on her person when she realized the attacker was a werewolf, and launched at Greyback.

She was well aware of the fact that he could easily overpower her, and that he had a knife, as well, but even though she could only barely reach him once for every three or four shallow cuts he managed to cause, the silver burned more than he could even try to do to her. They struggled for a couple of minutes, rolling on the floor and attempting to hit each other, before she grabbed hold of her wand.

Hermione quickly snapped her wand, causing thin, snake-like ropes to shoot out of the tip of it and tie Greyback down. The werewolf growled and twisted, but the ropes securely ties around his body and mouth prevented him of doing anything else.

Hermione stood up, limping towards the door and opening it, finally allowing a terrified Teddy to run into her arms. She picked him up, allowing him to cry of her shoulder as she snapped her wand again at Jess and the ropes that tied the woman fell to the ground. Leaning down next to Sam, Hermione checked his pulse and sighed in relief.

"He's alive," she muttered. "Probably a bit shaken and he'll have a headache, but he'll be alright." She looked up at her roommate and flinched at the look of fear that was clear on her face. "I'm not gonna hurt you," she told her.

"You're Hermione Singer," Jess said, looking up at her with shock. "_The_ Hermione Singer. Everything – the books – it's all real?"

"I'm afraid so," Hermione replied.

"And that was…"

"Fenrir Greyback," Hermione said. "I don't think they mentioned him yet… he's the werewolf who bit Remus. Remus Lupin," she added, for clarification.

"The boy…" Jess mumbled.

"Remus' son," Hermione said. "My godson."

"Does Sam know?" Jessica questioned, causing Hermione to cringe.

"Sirius stayed at my house between third and fourth year," Hermione said. "Sam met him… though he didn't know I was a witch and he was a wizard, at the time."

Sam stirred on the floor, slowly starting to regain consciousness as he groaned in pain. Hermione sighed, looking between the man who finally started seeing her as a sister again and the woman who was her best friend during the past six months.

"I think I owe you quite the explanation," she said, and Teddy's grip at her shoulders only tightened.


	22. Homecoming

**A/N:**** Hard chappter to write and I'm really proud I got it done in time :)**

**I give to you explanations and some Bobby. Next chapter will be Harry and Ginny's wedding, and hopefully I can get a bit of Dean into it, as well. (Fingers crossed)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

March 2003.

"He's asleep," Hermione said as Teddy's grip on her hand loosened.

She stood up and turned around to see Sam sitting on the chair Jess was previously tied to as the other woman held ice to the back of his head, where Greyback had hit him. The werewolf himself was tied up to the other chair, looking at all four people in undisguised hatred.

"Backup's on the way," Hermione added, hoping to extract some sort of reaction from either Sam or Jess.

"Who's coming?" Sam asked.

"Kook," Hermione replied. "He's the one who sent me on this mission. He also escorted me here on my first day."

"I remember him," Jess said. "Is he…"

"He's also a wizard," Hermione said. "I work at the Department of International Law Enforcement at the American Ministry. It's mostly undercover jobs, but at least I can be close to my dad."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"The war ended in 1998," Hermione recalled, "and then I completed my seventh year and worked for another year at the British Ministry. So three years."

"And you were here on a mission?" Jess asked for clarification.

"We knew something was attacking people," Hermione explained. "We didn't know what and until tonight I didn't know who."

"But you were lying to us," Sam said.

"I was doing my job," she retorted. "We were looking for Greyback since the Final Battle, and now we finally have him."

"And now you're just going to leave?" he asked. "Finished your job and you'll never look back?"

"No!" Hermione called. "Of course not! First of all, I enrolled for the whole year and I'm going to finish it –"

"Of course that's why," Sam mumbled.

"And secondly," Hermione went on as if he hadn't interrupted, "there's you."

"What do you mean, 'there's us'?" Jess asked. "You're not going to… to _Obliviate_ us or anything, are you?"

Hermione hesitated for a second. "Not unless you ask me to," she finally said.

"Why would we ask you to?" Sam asked.

Hermione lifted her wand, ignoring the excited look on Jess' face, and pointed it to her arm. She casted a quick _Finite_ on the glamour charm that was on it at all times, and looked up to see her friends' reactions.

Jess gasped and Sam paled, both of them transfixed by the word on Hermione's arm, the letters burning red as if they were only hours old instead of years.

"It's one thing to read about everything Harry went through in the books," Hermione said. "I lived it. _He_ lived it. Voldemort was real, the war really happened." Her eyes flashed to see Teddy's sleeping form on the bed. "And a lot of people didn't make it."

"Who?" Jess asked.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"_Who_?"

"You already know about Cedric," Hermione said. "The next one to die was Sirius."

Jess gasped again, turning to look at Sam. "I knew," he admitted. "Mya was in a bad shape the summer afterwards."

"That was when the war officially started," Hermione explained. "When the Ministry finally started believing Voldemort was back. People started dying quicker than you could imagine."

"What happened then?" Jess questioned.

"Our sixth year started," Hermione said. "Harry had private lessons with Dumbledore and he learned Voldemort created Horcruxes – dark objects containing a part of one's soul, so that he couldn't be killed. It's the darkest kind of magic out there. Most people only make one, but Voldemort made seven. Tom Riddle's diary was one of them."

"So Voldemort can't be killed?" Sam asked.

"Not until all of the Horcruxes are destroyed. The diary was one, and Dumbledore destroyed another, but it contained a curse and he died at the end of sixth year." _No need for them to know who killed him._ "I came back home one last time. Harry, Ron and I decided that we wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts but instead go hunting for the Horcruxes. My dad started helping Muggleborns into the US, to keep them safe."

"Like the Cattermoles," Sam said, and Hermione nodded.

"We planned on leaving the day after Bill's wedding, but in the middle of it we received a message that the Ministry had fallen and that Death Eaters took over." Hermione was retelling it as if it was a part of someone else's life and not something that really happened to her. "We were on the run for nearly a year."

"What did you do?"

"A lot of things I don't want to talk about," Hermione said darkly. "Then, there was the Battle of Hogwarts and Voldemort was defeated. Most of his followers were killed or arrested, but some managed to get away. Both of Teddy's parents died while fighting.

"After that, we started rebuilding our society. We found all of the Muggleborns Bobby brought here and they returned. The war ended and things started to return to normal, but it was never the same again."

Sam reached out a hand and trailed the letters on Hermione's arm, grimacing as she flinched in pain.

"Who?" he asked.

"Bellatrix," Hermione replied.

"Who?" Jess asked, confused, and Hermione sighed.

"You don't know her. She's dead. It doesn't matter."

Sam opened his mouth to respond when there was a _pop_, followed closely by another four. In front of them stood Kook, Dexter and three other wizards from Hermione's unit. Teddy woke up, scared at the sight of the intruders and terrified to see the strangers all aiming their wands at Sam and Jessica.

"Singer," Kook said slowly, "care to explain why are you breaking the Statue of Secrecy?"

"Wands down," Hermione said, though her own hand twitched as she held her own wand.

"They need to be Oblivia –"

"No, they don't," Hermione told him curtly. "And if you try, you'll have to get through me."

"They're Muggles," Dexter said.

"They're family," Hermione retorted. "I'm not Obliviating them, end of story."

She looked at Kook for a couple of seconds as he stared back right into her eyes. They seemed to be having a silent argument and in the end of it, Kook nodded once and turned his gaze to the other Aurors.

"Take him," he told them as he shook his head towards Greyback and the team complied, disapparating quickly as they came.

Once certain that Jess and Sam's memory was no longer in danger of being meddled with, Hermione hurried towards Teddy.

"Everything's alright, cub," she told him quietly. "It's okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

"Mione?" Teddy asked, looking between Kook and his Godmother's two friends. "Is everything fine?"

"Everything's perfect," she cooed, hoping her voice sounded like she really meant it as her hand held his. "Go back to sleep."

"'Kay," he muttered, leaning back and falling asleep almost immediately.

* * *

June 2003.

"I can't believe she's still reading this book."

"I can't believe you don't. Now shush, I need to concentrate."

"It's just a book."

"_Just a book?_ Who are you and what did you do with Hermione Singer?"

"You do know I can tell you everything that's going on, right?"

"Right now I'll feel better if you focus on driving so that we can get there in one piece."

"Just wait 'till you Floo. You'll feel like hell."

Hermione, Jess and Sam were currently in the car, driving the last couple of miles of their long trip from Stanford to South Dakota. Sam drove most of their way before Hermione insisted he needed some sleep and took over, and Jess was sitting in the back seat and reading a book. The same book she'd been reading since their trip started, even though she only took a couple of short breaks to nap.

"Who writes an 870 pages long book?" she exclaimed, putting it down and revealing the blue cover of the fifth book in the Harry Potter series. "Who _reads_ an 870 pages long book?"

"Apparently, you," Sam said.

"Though you're not doing such a good job at it," Hermione admitted. "Once we reach the Salvage Yard, I'll show you my History of Magic book. Now, _that's_ a big book."

"Where are you?" Sam, who read the book the previous week, asked.

"Christmas," Jess sighed. "Your dad is awesome, by the way," she added.

"Wait until you meet him face to face," Hermione laughed. "He's a real something."

"Maybe it would be better if you walked in first and said we're here?" Sam suggested. "I haven't seen him for years, and I don't know if…"

"He'll be glad you came," Hermione reassured him. "He missed you boys."

"Only that I'm not a boy anymore," Sam reminded her.

"If I'll always be his little girl, you'll always be his boys," Hermione retorted. "Jess, honey, are you sure you don't want me to just tell you?"

"No," Jessica replied determinedly. "I need to read it."

"I'm gonna fill you up on later events anyway," Hermione sighed. "And it's not like you don't know –"

"Mya," Sam said. "From my experience, it will do nothing. Just drop it."

"How far away are we?" Jess asked, looking out the window.

"Nearly there," Hermione replied.

"We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Just how Bobby likes it," Sam told her with a smile just as Hermione took the turn that revealed the old house to view.

"The both of us received a lot of money after the war, but he refused to redecorate," Hermione sighed. "Says he likes it just the way it is."

"What did he do with the money, then?" Jess asked.

"Charity," Hermione replied shortly, giving Sam a look that explained just what sort of 'Charity' her father was giving the money to. The one that included salt rounds and sharp machetes.

She parked the car near the house and walked out, grabbing her bag and pulling it on her shoulder. Sam, being the gentleman he was, tried to take it from her, but she refused. He was already holding his own bag and Jess', which was bigger than the two others combined.

"Hello?" she called, walking into the house. "Daddy? You in there?"

"Coming!" Bobby's gruff sigh came from somewhere upstairs, followed closely by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Hermione threw her bags on the sofa, pulling out her wand and waving it once to tidy up the mess her father was living in.

"Don't you start organizing things!" he called, causing Sam to smile and Jess to laugh. "Are there guests?"

"My roommate and her boyfriend are coming to the wedding, as well!" Hermione called.

"Oh," Bobby said. "Then maybe _do_ organize some things."

He arrived at the bottom of the stairs, finally visual for Sam and Jess to see. Jess beamed brightly at him but Sam was tense, waiting for some sort of reaction from the old hunter.

"Your roommate's boyfriend," Bobby finally said, not taking his eyes off Sam even though he was addressing his daughter. "You know you could've just said Sam was here."

"Well, _you_ could've been ready, like you said you would be," Hermione retorted, allowing the final book fall into its place on the shelf. "But you aren't."

Bobby smiled softly, unable not to as he always was when his daughter was near. "Good to see you again, Sam," he finally said.

"You, too, Bobby," Sam replied, the tension leaving his body. "This is Jess – Mya's roommate and my girlfriend."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Singer," Jess said politely, causing Bobby to laugh.

"Teach the girl some manners, would you?" he told Sam, before turning back to Jess. "There ain't no Mr. Singer here. You can call me Bobby." His eyes fell on the book she still clutched and he sighed. "Really?"

"I was saying the same thing," Hermione informed him as she picked up her bags again. "And so was Sam. It's no use. We're not supposed to head out to the wedding until tomorrow morning," she added. "I thought maybe Sam and Jess could sleep in the boys' old room?"

"No problem," Bobby said, nodding his head towards the stairs. "You know where to find it."

"Be right back," Sam told Jess, who was already sitting on the couch with the book open, not really listening to what he said. He started making his way upstairs, leaving Bobby and Hermione alone.

"What are you gonna do with your bags?" Bobby asked.

"I thought I'd send it upstairs using magic when Sam will be on his way down," Hermione replied. "Just to mess with his head a bit."

Bobby seemed as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"It's gonna be a long weekend."


	23. Pre-Wedding

**A/N: I planned this chapter to include both Jess coming to the wizarding word for the first time and the actual wedding, but got carried away... I mean, this is every fangirl's dream coming true! She deserves it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

June 2003.

"Bags packed? Everybody's ready? No last moment's change of mind?"

"We're all here, Mya," Bobby said, smiling fondly at his daughter as she fished a jar filled with green powder. "Let's go already."

"You already know the theory," she told Sam and Jess, straining her mind to try and remember if there was anything else she needed to tell them. "Speak loud and clear, come out the right fireplace –"

"We've got it," Sam said, putting down his and Jess' bag and looking at his friend with anticipation. "Let's go already."

"Alright," Hermione said, absentmindedly waving her wand to send all of their belongings to the Burrow, where the wedding would take place. "I'll go first –"

"And then me, and then Sam, and then Bobby," Jessica said with a smirk. "We know. We've been over it a thousand times."

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "Go ahead, make fun of me. When you end up at the Lovegoods', I won't come to pick you up."

"Yes, you will," Bobby said. "But it would be apparition, which would be punishment enough for her."

Hermione pulled a face at the three beaming people who stood in her childhood home's living room and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. Tossing it into the flames, she called, "The Burrow!" and stepped inside.

Coming out just where she expected to, she looked at the fireplace and waited for the others to come. To her surprise and fear, it was Sam who stepped out of the fire next.

"What?" she called, rushing towards him. "Where's Jess? Is everything okay?"

"She's not here?" Sam asked. "That's weird, she stepped into the fire."

A thousand possible locations passed Hermione's mind, each of them worse than the other, before Jess walked out of the green flames.

"Did it work?" she asked.

"Like a charm," Sam said with a smile.

"I was against it," Bobby declared as he stepped out of the fire, as well. "But it was just too good of a chance to miss."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, annoyed, when something caught her eye. A young boy who seemed to be five or six years old was looking at her from the doorway. His hair was black and messy, and he wore a pair of glasses that seemed to be several sizes too big. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head towards the flight of stairs to her left.

"Somebody better come tell me it's Teddy over here and not Harry with a de-aging potion the day before his wedding or heads _will_ roll!"

"Hermione?" a familiar voice called behind her and she turned to see a _grown_ Harry Potter standing behind her. "He took my old glasses."

Heaving s sigh of relief, Hermione stepped forwards, enveloping her best friend in a hug he returned gleefully, spinning her in the air with a smile. As he put her down, he turned to see the three guests.

"Bobby," he greeted with a smile, shaking the older man's hand before turning to Sam, who was smiling nervously and Jess, who looked like she was about to faint. "You must be Sam and Jessica. I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise," Sam said, shaking his hand as Jess looked like she was about to squeak.

"_Huge_ fan," she said, taking every little bit of him in.

Harry sent a questioning look in Hermione's direction, and the witch shrugged. "She read the books," she said, and a look of desperation crossed Harry's face.

"Not you, _too_!"

"And saw the movies," Bobby added with a smile.

Harry opened his mouth, presumably to complain, only to have the entire Weasley clan bursting through the doors to fret around Hermione.

"Auntie Mione!" Victoire called, hugging her legs.

"You look too thin," Molly tutted.

"Are those _Muggle clothes_?" Arthur asked with excitement.

"Ignore them all," Ginny said, pulling at her friend's hand. "I _need_ you."

"Wait a second!" Hermione called. "I just got here! Give a girl a moment to breathe!"

A chorus of "Sorry!" passed through the living room and Hermione smiled as she marked towards her friends.

"Everybody," she said, "these are Jess and Sam. Guys, these are Molly, Arthur, Ginny, George, Angelina, Percy, Audrey, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Ron, and the little ones – Victoire, Dominique and Molly no. 2."

Sam and Jess nodded as Hermione marked at each of the people whose names she called, hoping they would at least manage to recognize them all at a later date. Molly and Arthur would be easy, Sam thought, as they were the oldest, Bill had a fair amount of scars on his face and George didn't have an ear. That ought to count for something.

"Now that we're done, can you _please_ come help me?" Ginny asked. "I'm having a crisis here!"

"What crisis?" Hermione asked.

"Amy – one of my teammates – just cancelled her arrival," Ginny huffed. "I'm one bridesmaid short!"

"Jess could always do it," Bobby suggested. "That is, of course, if you don't mind," he added to the girl next to him.

"Would you?" Ginny asked. "You would be a life saver!"

"Calm down, Gin," Harry said, pulling his soon-to-be-wife into a one-armed hug. "There's no need to stress."

All the girls in the room turned to look at him with disbelief.

"My wedding is in less than twenty-four hours," Ginny said. "There's _every_ need to stress."

"Of course I'll do it," Jess said quickly, before anybody had a chance to add anything. "But the dress might need some fittings…"

"I'll do it," Angelina immediately said. "I'm a fashion designer, so I do it all the time."

"Let's head upstairs, then," Hermione said with a smile. "Can the two of you handle it down here?" she asked Bobby and Sam.

"We're good," Sam said, smirking at the way Hermione's accent turned towards the British the more she spoke. "Just don't let Jess catch the British Flu – I can see you're a lost cause already."

Furrowed brows looked at the two of them as Hermione huffed in annoyance.

"Don't you even _start_," she said with a smirk identical to his. "You're the one who fell for it."

"I was _nine_," he reminded her.

"Your point?" she questioned, finally allowing Ginny to drag her upstairs.

"You've _got_ to tell me that story one day," Jess muttered under her breath.

"Don't you dare!" Sam called, resulting only in making Hermione laugh harder.

"I'll tell you over diner," she promised the girls as the four of them – Audrey and Fleur stayed downstairs to help Molly with dinner – entered Ginny's room.

"Oh, it's so pretty," Jess sighed, looking at the sky-blue summer dress that Ginny handed her. "I'm scared to wear it, so that I won't ruin it by accident."

"No problem," Angelina said, and with a wave of her wand, Jess was wearing the dress. "We'll have to make it a bit larger on the breast area, and a bit shorter on your hips and your sleeves, but all in all it's not too much."

Jess was staring wide-eyed at Hermione, who did nothing more than shrug as her friend marked the changes that had to be done with small silvery pins.

"So we finally received the final guest list," Ginny told Hermione, picking up a rather long piece of parchment from her table. "Luna is coming with Rolf and Neville's bringing Hannah – did you hear they're engaged, too?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as she asked, "Xeno?"

"Got some disease I never heard of," Ginny sighed. "Probably nothing more than the flu, but… you know… anyway, McGonagall said she'll be coming, Hagrid, of course, Flitwick has some family thing in Spain, Slughorn thankfully declined – and so did Muriel."

"That old hag's still alive?"

"I don't know why you invited her in the first place," Angelina commented. "George and I didn't."

"Well, George's already out of her will," Ginny said. "I'm not yet and hopefully, she'll die soon and it will all be over with."

Jess raised a brow but said nothing, only straining herself from laughing as to not disturb Angelina as she worked.

"Victor's coming with a plus one, without Amy we've got… five of my teammates, no plus ones," Ginny kept counting. "Dean and Seamus, Astoria and Draco –"

"Malfoy?" Jess asked before she could stop herself.

"That was Ron's response, as well," Ginny said. "But I've been friends with Tory since fourth year, and she and Draco invited us to _their_ wedding next month…"

"I'll handle Ron if there's any need to," Hermione said determinedly.

"And I'll get George, if it comes to that," Angie added.

"Harry said Petunia will be coming with Dudley and his girlfriend," Ginny added. "That Vernon guy thankfully said no."

"Didn't you only wrote Petunia and Dudley's name on the invitation?" Hermione questioned.

"We did," Ginny said. "But there was the risk he wouldn't get the hint. Then, we got Kingsley, Andromeda, a couple of Harry's Auror friends, and I think that's it."

"So, how many have we got?" Hermione asked.

"Forty-four guests," Ginny replied. "And Harry and me, of course."

"I bet he's really happy," Hermione said. "Having a big wedding with a big family."

"I think he's really happy just marrying Gin," Angelina said, and the four of them laughed as she finished the final corrections to the dress. "That's it," she added, waving her wand to have Jess standing in front of her with her old clothes once again. "Let's go downstairs and rescue Sam and Bobby?"

Walking back to the living room, the four girls found Molly looking at both Charlie and Sam disapprovingly.

"I'm not telling you to cut it all," the old witch said, "just a bit, so that you'd look more presentable."

Charlie looked tired of the same argument every time he was home. "Mum," he said, "I'm not cutting it off. End of discussion."

Sam looked mostly scared.

"Leave it alone, Molly," Hermione said. "They'll just pull the same old trick and it will grow back overnight."

"I have something that would make sure it won't!" George called. "It might also turn their skin a bit pink, but it's supposed to pass until the wedding."

"How about I come to your room in the middle of the night and turn your skin _a lot_ pink?" Charlie threatened. "You know I can."

"You'll have to sneak on me first," George challenged.

"You know," Charlie faked a sigh, "sometimes I think you forget I work with _Dragons_ on a daily basis."

George turned a little paler before turning around to take a part of Ron and Bobby's conversation.

"It ain't gonna happen," Bobby was just saying. "They have no good players – look at what they said about Gudgeon. They switched a Seeker and then it took the Appleby Arrows two hours to win, rather than thirty minutes. All it did was make the loss harder."

"Yes, but if they switch a Keeper…" Ron started.

"No point there," Harry told him. "They've got seven rubbish players, and it's their seventh year in a row at the bottom of the League. They need a real change."

"I heard Rover is about to buy them, though," Ginny said, sitting down next to Harry.

"The Finnish?" Bill asked.

"How d'you know that?" Bobby questioned.

"Rumors run fast on the field," Ginny shrugged.

"Speaking of which, congratulations on beating Puddlemore United last week," Bobby told her. "It was, what – 270 to 20?"

"290," Ginny corrected. "Since they benched Wood their team's no-good. He was the best Keeper they ever had."

"So," Hermione said, leaning next to Jess who was watching the whole scene enfold from the corner of the room, "how do you like it so far?"

All Jess was capable of doing was smiling.


	24. My Brother and My Best Friend

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

July 2003.

Harry and Ginny's ceremony was short and sweet. They exchanged their vows, the wizard-equivalent for a priest preformed the bonding charm and the happy couple kissed to the cheers of the crowd.

Hermione stood by them at her place as Ginny's maid of honor and looked at the crowd. Bobby was sitting in the first row, Sam and Jess to his left and Teddy and Victoire to his right. The young Metamorphmagus refused to sit anywhere away from his younger friend, and Hermione had to suppress a grin at the way he was all but gaping at her.

Being five and six years old, respectively, she didn't think Teddy understood what it meant, or that Vic even noticed he was doing it. After all, she was part Veela.

After the ceremony was complete, everybody were requested to stand up and the area was turned into a dance floor. Laughing at the looks of shock on Sam and Jess' faces, Hermione dragged them forward and started dancing.

She danced with everyone. At first, she danced with Ron, laughing at him every time he stepped on her toes. She also dragged Sam for a dance, and when Jess hinted that she was feeling left out, pushed Sam aside and danced with her, the two girls howling from laughter the whole time.

After that, she grabbed Harry's hand and danced with him while Ginny danced with Luna, and then returned the newly wedded to his wife and danced with Neville and Krum. She even forced Bobby to dance at a certain point, and skillfully ignored the death stares he was sending Sam as the young Winchester tried his best not to laugh.

After a while, the dancing part was over and it was time for her to give her speech.

"Harry," she said, beaming at him. "My brother in all but blood. We have been through so many adventures together - from fighting trolls to fighting Death Eaters. Today, you are going on a whole new adventure. Starting a life with the woman you love, and building a family with her. For once, Ron and I won't be there with you for the adventure. But you couldn't have found a better person to do it with."

She turned to look at Ginny. "Ginny, my best friend. You were always there for me, whenever I needed a girl to talk with – because we both know those two are thick whenever it comes to that. I watched the two of you right from the start, since you sent him that dreadful poem at Lockhart's Valentine's Day, and up until that idiot realized just how in love with you he is. My brother and my best friend. I couldn't think of another couple to fill this part the way you two do."

She stepped forwards, hugging the newly wed before retreating to stand beside her father, Sam and Jess. Ron gave his speech but she didn't pay any attention – she knew it by heart already, from helping him write it – and instead looked at the couple who stood next to her.

Sam and Jess. Her brother and one of her best friends. _Maybe I can think of another couple to fill this part,_ she thought to herself silently.

A couple more speeches were given after that, before the dancing resumed and Dean left Seamus to dance with Hannah and headed towards where Hermione stood with Sam.

"Sam," Hermione started, "I want you to meet Dean Thomas."

"Also known as Mione's Dean-replacement during the war," Dean laughed, shaking the other man's hand. "You're the original Dean's brother, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Next time you talk to him, tell him he's an idiot, will you?" Dean asked. He turned around and saw Ginny marking him to come dance with her, and smiled at the two Americans. "It was nice to meet you," he said, walking away.

Hermione watched his back before turning to look at Sam, who was following Jess with his eyes. She was talking to Victor Krum, and was laughing at something Krum's girlfriend said. Hermione smiled softly, when Sam spoke.

"I'm going to marry her someday," he said. "I know it's early to talk about it, and I do want to do things the right way – she already agreed to move in with me next year. But I'm going to marry her."

"I'm happy for you," Hermione said, leaning on his arm. "The two of you deserve it. My brother and my best friend."

* * *

Dean was driving the fancy-looking street of the main street at Stanford University. He was debating with himself whether he should just turn around and drive away, but at the same time couldn't do it. Even if he didn't have the courage to talk to his brother, he still needed to see him – to see he was alright.

After all, old habits die hard.

He stopped by the place Sam told him he was staying at, a couple of months earlier. He hoped he was still there, but at the same time hoped he wasn't. It would make everything so much easier if he wasn't.

But he still wanted to see him.

It turned out that it was, after all, the right place. Looking through the window, Dean saw his baby brother putting dishes into the sink while laughing at a joke someone out of his sight said. He seemed happy.

Suddenly, the front door opened and a slim figure appeared. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a simple shirt, covered with her old leather boots and the leather jacket she got from Sirius. Her mane of curls seemed to be as uncontrollable as ever, but she didn't mind it as all she did was shove it behind her ear as she said her goodbye to whoever it was that was inside.

He couldn't help but think that even after all those years, she looked beautiful.

He never really got over Hermione. Mya was his first – and so far, only – love, and he knew she'd stay that way. None of the other women he was with meant anything to him. Each of them was just another in a list of one-night-stands, and none of them were what he was looking for.

None of them were what he wanted.

None of them were Hermione.

She walked down the lane and towards the street, and he wasn't sure whether or not she had seen the Impala. He was certain that she would recognize it as soon as she laid her eyes on it, but he didn't know if she would approach him, or turn the other way.

He hoped she would come.

Suddenly, he became terribly aware of the books in the back of the car – the only not-hunting-related books he had ever read. A series of books written by some Rowling chick, which Sam all but shoved under his nose a couple of years back, forcing him to read the name of one of the main characters. Hermione Singer.

He should have come to see her sooner.

Suddenly, she looked at the direction of his car and her eyes widened. She definitely saw it now. He tensed in his seat, waiting to see what she would do next.

Slowly, she started making her way towards the car. It looked as if she was certain that he was about to start the engine and drive away, leaving her alone in the warm July night. She clearly didn't know that he couldn't drive away. Not now. Not when he saw her.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself out of the car, wincing slightly at the thought of the coming reunion.

Would she be mad? She had every right to be. Did she hate him? He wouldn't blame her if she did. Had she moved on? He didn't think he could live with himself if she had. He would never forgive himself if he lost her completely.

All too soon, she was standing in front of him, looking at him warily.

"Hi," she said, her voice sounding exactly the same as it did the last time he saw her, six years ago. She kissed him back then, and all he wanted to do was to kiss her now, again.

"Hi," he said instead, hoping the way he was trying to imprint every single detail about her into his memory wasn't too obvious.

"What are you doing here?"

The tone of her voice confused him. She didn't sound as if she was mad at him, or that she wanted him to go. It was just a curious question. So much like the teenage Hermione he fell in love with.

"I came to make sure Sammy was alright," he admitted, honesty he forgot he ever had flowing out of him naturally, as it always did with her.

Her eyes looked into his, and he was certain that she could read every single thought in his mind. Considering the couple of inappropriate thoughts that crossed his mind since she appeared, he hoped she couldn't.

"Couldn't bring yourself to go inside?" she asked, marking with her head at the house she just exited.

He slowly shook his head, waiting for her to call him out as a coward. As a bad brother – person – _friend_.

"He's happy," she said instead. "He's hopelessly in love with his girlfriend, Jess. She just moved in with him."

"That's good," Dean said. "It's good for him."

"It is," Hermione agreed. They stood there in silence for about a minute before she spoke. "I should probably go. Wouldn't want to hold you back…"

She turned around to leave and Dean found the word coming out of his mouth without control. "Don't." She turned to look at him. "Don't – don't go. Stay. Please."

She looked hesitant, so he took a step at her direction, closing the gap between them almost entirely. He grabbed her arms and looked into her eyes, trying to shut out the two small voices in his head.

One of them was screaming at him to go for it already, while the other insisted on no chick-flick moments. He ignored them both.

Slowly and carefully, allowing her the time to step back or turn her head if she didn't want to, he leaned in. He closed his eyes, unwilling to watch in case she pushed him away and, at long last, his lips captured hers.

This kiss was nothing like the other one they shared. The first one was the kiss of two eighteen year old teenagers who were never really naïve, but still knew nothing about life. It was something rash, unexperienced and instinctive. This kiss was different.

Dean melted into the kiss, his lips touching Hermione's soft ones as she returned it whole-heartedly. She was a better kisser now, and he couldn't help but be mad at himself. She had experience with other boys – boys who weren't him, and it was all his fault. He should have never left her.

She raised her head, angling her neck to match with his height and his hands left her arms and wrapped themselves around her body, pulling her closer to him. She wrapped her hands around his neck, and somehow, without looking, he knew that her eyes fluttered shut.

It was gentler than any other kiss he ever had, and he knew that it was because it was the first kiss that meant anything to him in a long time. Too long.

He didn't want it to end but as she started pressing against him and he felt blood flowing to between his legs, he pulled back.

"We're not going to have sex in my car," he whispered. "You're too good for that, and besides, you're more than just that."

She nodded silently. Even in the dim street-lamp light, he could see the heat in her cheeks.

"You're leaving now, aren't you?" she asked.

"Not like last time," he said, referring to when he left and didn't see her again. "Never like last time."

"I have a flat," she told him. "In Salem. That's – that's where the Ministry is." He could tell she was wary at the mention of magic, but he didn't care about that anymore. He didn't care about anything anymore, as long as he could hear her voice, touch her skin and feel her soft lips on his. "I'd take you there now, but I know you can't leave Baby behind."

"I'll visit," he said. "Keep in touch – here." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote his personal phone number on it, the one he never used for cases. "Call me, and we'll see where we can meet."

Hermione took the paper from his hand, and leaned in for another short kiss. "You better pick up when I call," she said.

"I will," Dean said, having every intent on living up to that promise.

Hermione smiled and took a step back. He heard a small crack, and knew that if he blinked, he would have missed it.

She was gone.

* * *

**A/N:**** Here I was planning a small encounter between Dean and Mya. Some talking. Forgiving each other. Aaaand now they're kissing.**

**So that happened. What did you think?**


	25. Gentleman

**A/N:**** Another chapter on the go! And more Dean/Hermione!**

**Ava B: 1. Completely agree with you here and already starting to think of a way to incude that in this fic :)  
2\. Must admit that I never read Breaking Dawn but in reply to your question - this story is rated T and I suck at writing smut so there will be none. There will be talking about sex, but not the actual thing.  
3\. Take in mind that we haven't even started the Supernatural series, and that I have plans until the beginning of season 6, and I try to plan out more. This story will be long.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

August 2003.

Dean was pacing nervously outside Hermione's apartment, worry creeping into his mind. What was he even thinking? So many parts of his plan for tonight were simply _wrong_, why did he even bother?

_Because it's Hermione,_ said a small voice in the back of his mind. _It's Mya and it's all worth it._

Still, he couldn't help but feeling it was a bad idea.

Putting aside the fact that he was a hunter and, therefore, didn't have the privilege of normal relationships, and ignoring his father's complete disapproval had he known what Dean was doing left him with the realization he was about to take _Hermione Singer_ out on a date with money he earned _hustling pool_.

She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.

The pacing increased. Why did it have to be so goddamn hard?

He knew he should just leave and let her move on with someone better, but as his selfishness flowed over him, he couldn't bring himself to drive away. He was going to do it, he decided, and he was going to give her the best he could. As little as that may be.

He raised his hand and knocked the door nervously. After a moment and some shuffling sounds from the inside, the door opened to reveal Hermione, wearing a simple, yet elegant dress.

Looking at her, appreciating her beauty and realizing what she meant to him made him realize he was making the right choice. It was all worth it, in the end. All because of her.

"Wow," he found himself muttering and smiled as he heard her laugh. Man, did he miss that laugh.

"Thank you," she said, taking a small beaded bag off one of the shelves. "Let's go."

Walking downstairs to where he parked the Impala, he couldn't help but feel he was gawking at her. When she looked at him from the corner of her eye, he quickly looked away and hurried to the car, opening the door for her.

"I can open doors, you know," she said as she walked in.

"Well, I sure hope you _can_," he huffed. "Doesn't mean I'll let you."

She let out a small sound of indignation, but smiled nonetheless.

"So," she asked. "Where to?"

"I booked us a place at a restaurant," he replied.

"I didn't know Dean Winchester takes girls to restaurants," she teased.

"Usually, I don't," he said, and she blushed.

The drive to the Chinese restaurant Dean booked places in – she was amazed he remembered her fondness to that kind of food – was spent in silence. As Dean parked the car and she walked out he frowned, undoubtedly wanting to open the door for her, but his frown quickly disappeared as her hand found his and they walked together.

Upon reaching the restaurant, he let go of her hand in order to open the door for her, and it was her turn to frown, ignoring the way the hostess cooed at the two of them. It wasn't until he insisted to help her sit down that she spoke up.

"I'm perfectly capable to do it myself," she said, refusing to sit down and he smiled at her.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here, Mya," he replied. "Give a man some credit."

Gritting her teeth, she sat down, muttering something that sounded like, "Winchester boys and doing things the right way. Merlin!"

He smiled and sat in front of her, looking at the menu but not starting conversation. What was he supposed to talk about? His life pretty much concluded with hunting, and he honestly doubted she wanted to hear about that. Then again, her dad was a hunter – she knew how that sort of thing worked. She grew up that way. But hunting was what tore them apart to begin with…

"So, how are you?" she asked, tearing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he said. "Mostly working alone now."

"Is that wise?" she questioned, worried. "It's dangerous to do jobs alone…"

"It's nothing big," he brushed her worries off. "If I need backup, I just call Dad."

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did he have to bring up his dad?_

"How is John?" Hermione asked, the hostility he expected gone from her voice. That girl would never cease to amaze him.

"He's fine," Dean replied. "He says he's getting closer on the demon that killed my mom, but he's said that before, so…"

"I understand," Mya said, resting her hand on top of his. "I hope you find the bastard soon enough."

"How are you?" he asked, not even bothering to be subtle as he changed the topic of the conversation. "There's so much you never told us… I mean, I read the books, but –"

"You read?" Hermione asked, feigning shock and he frowned.

"It's not such a rare occurrence," he said.

"Yes, it is," she laughed.

"Well, I hope I'd keep surprising you," he retorted. "To the better, of course."

"Only to the better," she agreed, just as the waitress arrived for their order.

* * *

September 2003.

"He's unbearable," Hermione muttered, pacing back and forth in the living room of the house Jess and Sam shared.

While Sam was off at one of his evening courses, Jess was sitting in front of her and sipping on her coffee as if her best friend wasn't having a mental breakdown.

"I don't understand why you're so upset." She shrugged.

"Upset?" Hermione questioned. "I'm not upset. I'm way beyond upset."

"You've been talking about him nonstop for well over a month now," Jess noted. "So you're a bit upset –"

"A bit upset?" Hermione repeated. "Merlin, woman, do you even hear yourself? It crossed beyond _a bit upset_. Three dates! Three! And all he's done was kiss my cheek after the first one and a short one at the lips after the other two. Not even a proper snog. And when I asked him if he wanted to come in, he smiled and refused."

"He's a gentleman," Jess said. "He wants to take his time – making sure he's doing things the right way."

"Take his time," Hermione huffed, falling down on the couch in front of Jess. "We've taken our time. Jess, we've known each other since we were six, I've had a crash on him since fourteen, our first kiss was at eighteen and our second was two months ago. We're twenty four years old. We've taken our damn time!"

"You know, most girls would be flattered to know that their date wants more than just sex," Jessica noted.

"Did I ever look like most girls to you?" Hermione questioned.

"So you're saying you want nothing more than sex?"

"Of course I want more than just sex!" Hermione replied. "But that doesn't mean taking sex entirely out of the equation. You know, a girl has needs."

"Oh, trust me, I know," Jess said, grinning mischievously.

"Gross," Hermione said, pulling a face. "You know he's like a brother to me, right? You're worse than Ginny who keeps trying to tell me how Harry is in bed."

"I wouldn't mind knowing how Harry is in bed," Jess noted.

"Again," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "gross. Can we go back to the point here? Me, Dean, breakdown, no sex."

The sound of something falling and breaking was heard from the door and the two women turned to see Sam standing at the doorway, a broken wine bottle at the floor next to him.

Had Hermione not been so shocked to realize he just found out about her relationship with his brother – one she had been trying very hard to keep secret, mind you – she might have took out her wand and cleaned the mess. As it was, the witch and the former hunter did nothing but stare at one another.

"Sammy…" she finally managed, only to be cut off as he, too, found his voice.

"What?" he asked.

Hermione decided to note the lack of disdain in his voice as a good sign.

"I…" she started unsure of how to continue. "We…"

"Dean?" he questioned, disbelief all over his features.

"It happened," she said. "Or, rather, didn't. That was why I was complaining."

"Gross," he replied, pulling a face. "He's my brother."

"Now you know how I feel every time Jess is talking about you that way," she muttered, though she was extremely relieved his reaction didn't involve screaming.

Coming back to her senses, she pulled out her wand and cleaned the mess on the floor where the wine bottle fell. It was too late to save the wine, so she searched inside her bag until she found some elf made wine and a bottle of Ogden's. Handing the both of them to Sam, she had to stiffle a laugh as he went for the Firewhiskey.

"So you're not mad?" she asked.

"No," Sam said, pouring the three of them a drink. "A bit disappointed, though. Not of you!" he added quickly as Hermione's face fell. "Well, not entirely, at least. I was planning to set you up a date with Brady."

"The one that set the two of you up?" Hermione asked, passing one glass of whiskey to Jess and downing the other without thought.

"Yeah," Sam said, downing his drink in a similar manner. "Thought I'd pay him back, but apparently you're taken."

"Not taken enough for my liking," Hermione muttered, reaching out to get some more Firewhiskey and noting the look on Sam's face as she did. "Oh, grow up."

"He's my brother, and you're like a sister to me," Sam said. "Please, tell me you understand why this situation is a bit –"

"Gross!" Jess called, distracting the other two in the room and she coughed the Firewhiskey out. "How do you even drink it?"

"You get used to it," Hermione shrugged. "I spent enough 2nd of May getting drunk with George to get used to the feeling."

"2nd of May?" Sam asked, confused.

"The date of the final battle," Hermione said with a shrug. "Also, Victoire's birthday."

"And Sam's," Jess said quietly, causing Hermione's eyes to widen.

"I totally forgot," she mumbled. "I… we didn't even celebrate it last year. I'm a terrible friend," she concluded, falling down on the couch.

"No, you're not," Jess said. "It's not like we celebrated my birthday, or yours."

"It's different," Hermione insisted. "I never celebrate my birthdays."

"Neither do I," Sam said.

"What?" Hermione asked. "But… you used to love your birthdays!"

"Grew out of it," he shrugged. "Really, Mya. It's no big deal. Besides, it seems like you have bigger things on your mind that day. Don't feel bad."

"Fine," Hermione sighed before turning to look at him. "But this year, we're celebrating your birthday even if I have to drag you there myself."


	26. Paradise and Troubles

**Disclainmer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

September 2003.

"Amazing," Hermione sighed, falling on the couch at Harry and Ginny's apartment, a bottle of Butterbeer in hand.

"Amazing?" Ginny questioned.

"_Amazing_," the American witch repeated.

"I'm glad to hear he finally saw reason," Ginny chuckled.

"Saw reason?" Hermione snorted. "Sure, if you'd like."

"What did you do?" Ginny questioned.

"I may have, accidently, on purpose, didn't finish arranging myself for our date last night," Hermione said, feigning innocence. "So I told him to wait inside while I finished up."

"And…?"

"And I walked right into my living room wearing nothing but a towel," Hermione finished. "A very, _very_ small towel. It might have been a couple of years, but I still know how he thinks. How all men think," she added as an afterthought.

"Interesting," Ginny mused. "I might try that next time Harry gets too busy with work for my liking, if you know what I mean."

"Trust me, I know more than I want to when it comes to you two," Hermione grimaced. "I never shared my experiences with Ron with you, did I?"

"Oh, you did," Ginny replied.

"Oh, well," Hermione sighed. "Last night was better."

"Er… glad to hear?" Ginny asked, trying to decide whether or not this specific piece of information made her sick, or made her want to rub it in Ron's face.

"I'll deny if ever asked," Hermione quickly said, seeming to read her friend's mind.

"Spoilsport," Ginny muttered. "So, seeing as things with Dean are well –"

"Better than well," Hermione corrected.

"Better than well," Ginny agreed. "How is Bobby? And Sam and Jess?"

"Dad is… as always," Hermione shrugged. "Rufus called the other week."

"What did he do?" Ginny asked, knowing all too well the complicated relationship between the two hunters.

"Called him many names even I feel uncomfortable to repeat before hanging up," Hermione replied. "And Sam and Jess are still living in their little bubble."

"Do you want me to take him to Mum?" Ginny asked. "He'll propose within a week."

"Nah," Hermione shrugged. "Let them take things at their pace. Last I spoke to Sam, he's ready to propose. He just… wants to do things right."

"Last time a Winchester wanted to do things right I had you complaining to me about your empty sex life for a month," Ginny noted.

"Trust me, they've got no problems on that front," Hermione said, pulling a face. "Between you and Jess, I know more about my brothers' sex life than anybody ever should."

"They're not _really_ your brothers, though."

"Don't give me that, Gin," Hermione said. "You know how it works almost as well as I do."

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny waved the comment off. "Family don't end with blood and all that. But I still can't understand how you see Harry and Sam as your brothers, but Ron and Dean are fair game."

"How do you see Neville?" Hermione questioned.

"As a – I get what you're trying to do," Ginny smirked. "Fine. You win this one. Speaking of Neville, did you hear he just finished his Herbology Mastery?"

"At a matter of fact, I have," Hermione said with a smile. "He's studying under Professor Sprout now, isn't he?"

"Taking her post next year," Ginny nodded. "He'll also be Head of Gryffindor. Minerva is having trouble handling both that job and being Headmistress."

"Well, good for the both of them," Hermione smiled. "She deserves whatever rest she can have before you and Harry will start sending kids to Hogwarts." She paused as she realized what she just said. "Not that I expect you to – only if you want to – I don't want you to feel any pressure because –"

"Relax," Ginny laughed. "I was actually going to bring it up to Harry tonight. I know it's early, since we just got married," she said, "but I also know how much he wants a big family, and I'd like to give him that. Not too big, mind you, but still."

"He already has a big family," Hermione said, gesturing at the photos of Weasleys that covered nearly every surface.

"But he wants a family of his own," Ginny replied. "The only blood relatives he's got are the Dursleys and they're…"

"Positively horrific?" Hermione suggested.

"Exactly," Ginny said. "I mean, don't you want a big family after growing up on your own?"

"I had Sam and Dean," Hermione reminded her friend. "But I get what you mean. I mean, I can see myself settling one someday… starting a family. Not dropping off work entirely," she quickly added.

"I get you there," Ginny said. "I know my Mum did it and all, but I think I'd drive myself mad if all I'd do is playing house. Though I may take a desk job – maybe be a Quidditch journalist for the Prophet."

"You'll be good at that," Hermione said.

"I hope so," Ginny replied. "So, you can see yourself starting a family… with Dean?"

"As odd as it may sound, I can," Hermione admitted. "We'll have two kids. A boy, and a girl. The boy will be a little heartbreaker like his dad, and the girl will never have a proper date, what with her overprotective daddy."

"That bad?"

"You think my Dad was harsh when it came to boys?" Hermione questioned. "Dean will be ten times worse because he's going to be afraid some mini-him will come and sweep her off her feet. And her overprotective brother won't be much better."

"I see you've already got it all planned out," Ginny smirked.

"Is that foolish of me?" Hermione asked.

"Not at all," her friend replied. "I, for one, think it to be adorable. You do know it means you'll have to tell your dad about him, right?"

"Give me a couple of months," she said. "I… I know it sounds incredibly stupid after what I just said, but I want to make sure he's really into it first. I suppose I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"It's not stupid," Ginny told her. "You're just trying to protect yourself. It's completely understandable. Now sit up!" She gave her a non-negotiable stare. "I want to hear _everything_ about last night."

* * *

December 2003 – January 2004.

Hermione and Dean were lying in bed, looking at the clock as they waited for the countdown for the New Year. They were wrapped in the blanket, curled into each other as Hermione's back pressed into Dean's bare chest, their legs tangled with each other's.

"Ten," Dean whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her while simultaneously sending shivers down her spine. "Nine. Eight."

"Seven," she whispered back, taking his hand in her own and holding it to her chest. "Six. Five."

"Four," Dean said, turning her to look at him. "Three."

"Two," she continued, leaning forwards to close the distance between the two of them. "One."

He pulled her close for a kiss, causing her hand to let go of his and wrap around his back, his hands travelling all over her body before he pulled away for breath.

"Happy New Year, Mya," he said, rolling over her and giving her another small peck on the lips.

"Happy New Year," she echoed, pulling him close as if she never wanted to let go.

Some time later, she was standing in her kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and arranging a midnight snack for the two of them. He walked in wearing a pair of boxers before sneaking behind her and pulling her close.

"I hope microwave pizza is fine," she said. "It's pretty much all I have to offer."

"Microwave pizza is great," he said, making a trail of kisses from her hairline and down her neck. "Have I told you how sexy you look when you're wearing my shirts?"

"More than once," she said, trying to ignore the trembles he was creating in her body. "You also said you were hungry."

"I'll live." He shrugged, turning her over and trying to pull her onto the table.

"Nope," she said, pulling away from him. "We're not having sex on the table. I eat here."

"You can always get a new one," he offered.

"So that you can ruin it, too?" she questioned. "Not gonna happen. Now, I'll finish making us pizza –"

"It's microwave pizza," he reminded her.

"– and then we'll go back to the bedroom," she finished as if he hadn't just interrupted.

"So it's okay to eat in the bed where we had sex, but not okay to have sex on the table where you eat?" he asked.

"It's not me I'm worried about." She smiled. "Other people eat here, too. How do you think Sam would feel if he came to visit and discover he's sitting where we had sex?"

"Extremely supporting of us?" Dean offered.

"Try again," she said, giving him a small peck on his lips before turning around and putting the pizza in the microwave.

"How about the sofa?"

She turned back to look at him, the slightest color in her cheeks visible despite the darkness of the apartment.

"I really don't think you understand that I actually have guests coming around," she said.

"I really don't think you understand that I don't really care about the guests," he retorted.

"Well, I do," she informed him.

"C'mon, Mya," he muttered, wrapping his hands around her and pulling her close. "How can I resist? You're standing here in the kitchen, looking irresistible and incredibly hot wearing my shirt, and you expect me to wait?"

"Yup," she replied, popping the word out of her mouth with a mischievous grin.

"Fine," Dean pouted, though he was rolling his eyes in amusement. "How are things going, other than that?"

"Things are fine," she replied with a smile. "Work's busy as always, but that's what I like about it. Sam and Jess are still the perfect couple." She paused for a moment, thinking about what else was going on in everybody's life. "Ginny's pregnant."

"Oh," was all Dean said.

She turned to look at him. "Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah, I… what do you want me to say?" He shrugged.

"Usually, people say congratulations," she noted.

"Why would I tell you congratulations?" he asked. "It's not like you're the pregnant one."

"Yes, but…" she sighed, trying to point out what bothered her about his reply. "You could have still been a bit happier for them."

"It's not like I've ever met them or something."

"Well, they're still my friends!"

"Are you seriously going to start an argument about this?" he asked. "You do realize how stupid this is?"

"Their happiness matters to me," she replied. "You should be happy with me."

"I am happy!" he called. "Let them have twenty kids for all I care, I just don't understand why you're making such a scene out of it!"

"I wasn't the one making a scene out of it!" she called.

"Yes, you were!"

"You know what? This is stupid," Hermione said.

"That's what I said and then you attacked me," Dean told her. "Why did you even bring it up in the first place?"

"They're my friends," she repeated.

"Yeah, friends I've never met," he said.

"Well, maybe that's a problem in itself!" she told him.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," he said. "You want me to meet your friends? Bring your friends over! I'm here at least once a month; it shouldn't be such a big deal for your friends to drop over!"

"It is when they're across the Atlantic!"

Dean opened his mouth to reply when his phone beeped. "This fight is stupid and I've got a case," he said, walking back to the bedroom.

"What, so you're just leaving now?" she asked.

"I have a case," he repeated.

"It's one in the morning," she said.

"That's part of my job," he said bitterly. "Accepting cases at one in the morning."

And with that, he finished packing his thing and walked out of the apartment, leaving Hermione sitting on one of the chairs as the microwave rang the pizza was ready and she wondered how things had gone wrong so quickly.

* * *

**A/N:**** Sorry I'm late with the update of this chapter... I didn't really liked the end of it, so I tried - and failed - to find a new one. Reasons I hate fillers. On the bright side, I'm planning a Dean/Mya meeting on a hunt for the next chapter, so there's that.**

**I should also let you know that from now on, I'm moving the update day of this story to Thursdays, but I will continue to upload once a week. **

**One last thing, I got some reviews telling me that Hermione sounded like a sex-addict. I'd like to disagree. I believe that the intimic part of a relationship is just as important as the romantic part, and that without either of them, something is just missing. Hermione understands that (And she's been waiting for Dean for years now, you can't really blame a girl for wanting him).**

**Also, there's something I really don't like about the fact that when a man talks about sex, it's fine but when a woman talks about sex, she's called a whore. Just like I don't think it's right that when a man witholds sex in a relationship, he's called sweet, but when a woman does it, she's a prude. As a rule, my female characters do not hold back on that front. If they want something, they'll get it.**

**That's it, thanks for reading :)**


	27. Family

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

April 2004.

It's been months since Hermione saw Dean.

After he stormed off during their fight on New Year's Eve, she sat for hours, waiting for him to return even though she knew he wouldn't. A job was a job, and walking out on one meant people dying. Besides, if he was hunting with John – which was more than likely – he wouldn't dare to tell the older man he wasn't coming.

She tried her hardest not to resent him, as even though she didn't quite agree with the way he raised his sons, the result was a brother for her and a man that she loved with all her heart, but it was still hard.

_Loved._ She didn't dare to admit it aloud, but she did love Dean. Which only made the way he was making excuses to avoid her worse, in her eyes.

As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, all the small insecurities she thought she had gotten over years ago had returned.

Why would he want her, of all people? He was Dean Winchester, for crying out loud! Women probably fall down his feet, and yet he is with her. Or is he? After all, they don't see each other all the time, and it could be so easy to go out on a bar during or after a hunt, and return to the motel with a girl on his arm.

She pondered over it time and time again, rethinking it whenever she was alone.

_Why would he want her?_ She asked herself while trying to fall asleep on a bed that seemed by far too big when she was alone in it. _Why would he want her?_ She tried to understand, giving only half a mind to it as she was filing reports after jobs. _Why would he want her?_ She wondered, driving on Sirius' bike on her way to yet another case.

She sighed as she parked the machine and headed off to check in in a small motel, the only in town. She was sent there to hunt down vampires tracked by a wizard who lived nearby, and it was up to her to figure out whether they were regular vampires or wizarding ones, and act appropriately.

She really hated he job sometimes.

_"I promise I won't be a hunter,"_ she told her father the summer before third year, when she tried to convince him to teach her to defend herself. But, after all, wasn't that what she became? A Bounty Hunter for inhumane creatures.

It was different for Harry and Ron, who worked as Aurors in the Ministry. Their world was clear, as a Dark Wizard had chosen to become one. She also knew that Dean's world was made of black and white, as well – if it wasn't human, you kill it. As simple as that.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to see things that way. Who's to say Werewolves and vampires weren't human? Remus was the best example for that, having lived his whole life in a world where he was treated as a monster, growing up to become one of the best people she had ever known.

Then again, in the eyes of most hunters _she_ wasn't human, as well, a fact that she and Dean had managed to avoid in their conversations, back when they were still talking.

It all came down to that, eventually. As Ginny was entering her seventh month of pregnancy and Sam and Jess prepared for their finals, she was barely talking to her… her what? What was Dean for her? Because from the looks of the past four months, he wasn't her boyfriend.

So sunken in her thoughts as she walked towards her room, Hermione didn't notice when a man walked out of the door of the neighboring room, crashing into her.

"Sorry," he said quickly, stopping to make sure she was alright.

Hermione looked up in shock and met his eyes, which were reflecting the same surprise in hers. Before either of them could say a word, a second man walked out of the room and at the sight of him, Hermione's hand jumped to her belt, resting on the gun that was hidden there.

John's eyes furrowed, watching the woman who stood in front of him and the way his son looked uncertainly between the two of them. His own hand rested on his gun, but he didn't plan to take it out unless she did so first.

After all, there was no need to cause a scene.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"Probably the same as you," she replied. "Hunting vamps."

"A hunter witch?" he mocked. "Yeah, right."

"Believe it or not, that's what I'm doing here," she said. "Now, we can either work together or alone, but at any rate I'd rather those guns to stay where they are right now."

"You reached out for yours first," he noted.

"Last time you spoke to my dad you said you'll kill me if you ever see me again," Hermione said. "Can you blame me for taking precautions?"

"Alright," Dean cut in. "We're all grownups, I think we are capable of working a case without killing each other."

"So is it settled?" Hermione asked, finally looking away from John, though her posture was still defensive. "We're doing the case together?"

"I don't see why not," he shrugged, looking at his father for approval. "We all have the same goal eventually, and the sooner we get this over and done with, the sooner we can all move on."

_Move on._ The words echoed in Hermione's mind as she tried to hide the way her face fell at the sound of them. Move on and go back to ignoring each other, he meant. She's going to change his mind, she decided right there and then. And what way is better to do it than get his father's approval of her?

"Come in, then," she told them, opening up the door to her room and putting her beaded bag on the bed. "Let me just take out my files…"

"Files?" John asked.

"That's my job," Hermione explained. "I work for the ministry, tracking creatures and dark wizards."

Dean, in the meanwhile, was looking at the bag, noticing it was the only one she was carrying.

"Are you seriously saying you have everything you need in there?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yup," she replied, searching inside the bag, ignoring the way their eyes widened as her whole hand fitted in it. She pulled out a folder filled with papers and sat down, looking at the father and son expectantly. "So, what have you got?"

"Er…" Dean said, coming back to his senses. "We're here for a couple of days already. So far there has been four attacks and –"

"Six," she corrected, looking at her notes.

"What?"

"Six attacks," she repeated. "There were six attacks so far. Not four."

"We only read about four," John said.

"The other two weren't reported in the regular media," she said, pulling out two articles from the folder and handing them over. "Jeremy O'Connell, 23, and Alexandra Abbot, 17. They're the reason I was put on the case."

"The pictures…" John muttered, not entirely in focus of the conversation. "It's moving."

"Yes, it does that," Hermione brushed the comment off. "Can you concentrate, please?"

"Okay," Dean said, recovering faster than his father did, since he already saw pictures of that sort in Hermione's apartment. "So there has been six attacks, and from what I see…" He paused for a moment, looking through the articles Hermione pulled out. "All of them had been in the same one mile radius."

"So can we assume the nest is somewhere inside that radius?" she questioned.

"It makes the most sense," John shrugged. "We were just about to head out and check for abandoned buildings in the records."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Hermione asked. "Let's go."

* * *

"It doesn't feel right," John muttered as they were hiding behind a corner, watching the empty warehouse the Vampires were living in.

"You do this sort of things all the time, don't you?" Hermione questioned.

"Not _this_," he said, gesturing at the scene they were currently a part of. "That thing you did on me. It doesn't feel right."

"All I did was hide your scent from other creatures," she replied. "But it would be of no use if you keep talking."

"You did Witchcraft on me," he insisted, causing her to sigh.

She knew she should have insisted Dean would join her, but he was so quick to pass the job to his father that she didn't really get a chance to object.

"It's not Witchcraft," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. "It's Wizardry. There's a major difference."

"You're a witch," he said coldly. "It's Witchcraft."

"I'm only a witch by gender and title," she explained. "It's just easier to say witch than say 'a female wizard'."

"You cast a spell on me," he muttered.

"Yes, I did, two hours ago, can we please move on?"

They fell into silence once more, staring at the warehouse in hopes something would happen. John's phone buzzed and he looked at the message he received.

"Dean's on his way," he said.

"We'll go in once he arrives," Hermione replied, and he nodded.

"What is your job?" he asked.

"I'm a field Auror," she said. "It's the wizarding equivalent of a cop. Mostly undercover works."

"Why undercover?" John questioned.

"I'm young, experienced and I know how to switch between my British accent and my American one, so it comes in handy," Hermione explained. "Transferred from Britain a while ago so I can be closer to home."

"And you get paid for it?" he asked. "A nine-to-five job of hunting things?"

"I'd hardly call it a nine-to-five," she protested. "More like a government-approved bounty hunter." She paused for a moment, thinking over what she just said. "It's not as fun as it may sound."

"It sounds pretty sweet, to be honest," John shrugged. "You do exactly what we do and get paid for it."

"And my godson almost died because of it last year," she noted sadly. "I don't manage to hold a relationship – only had one serious relationship since I was done with school, and even that…" She sighed.

"That's just life as a hunter," John said. "You… We don't get all the normal life other people get. That's just how it is. So you've got two options – go back to your regular, apple-pie life and pretend this world doesn't exist or suck it up and move on."

"My life is all but apple-pie," Hermione muttered.

"You get a salary," he retorted. "Sounds pretty apple-pie to me."

Dean parked the Impala next to them and the two looked up as he opened the garage, pulling out a couple of guns and handing one to his dad.

"You coming?" he asked. "We've got a next to clear."

* * *

"So, you're going now?" Dean asked Hermione quietly.

"I need to take him to the ministry," she said, marking at Sanguini – a magical vampire she found bound and beaten at the back of the warehouse. Apparently, the other vampires took him, planning to kill him for his work with Eldred Worple, the author of the best-selling wizarding book _'Blood Brothers'_. "He's under my jurisdiction, so I need to make sure nothing else happens to him."

"And then what?" he asked.

"Well, I was hoping that you'd come to my place," she replied. "But after the past couple of months…"

Dean took a deep breath, sadness filling his features. "This can't work," he said.

"Of course not, with the way you've been ignoring me lately," she retorted.

"It can't work," he repeated firmly. "This… whatever we had worked for a couple of months but it won't do. I just wish I saw it before and spared you of the heartache."

"There will be no heartache if you stop it, now," Hermione said, holding back the tears in her eyes and in her voice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm a hunter," Dean said, as if it explained everything.

"So am I," she replied.

"You're a government approved bounty hunter," he corrected.

"You can be one, too," she told him. "I'll talk to my boss, we can arrange something, together."

"It won't work," he said once more. "I'm not one for bosses and paperwork. I hunt, it's just what I do."

"You could keep doing that," she said, her hope faltering as moments passed.

"No, I can't." He took a deep breath once more, preparing himself for what he was about to say – what he was thinking about for the past four months. "I'm a hunter, and you're a witch. This could have never worked."

"It did for my parents," she whispered.

"And look where they ended," he bit out, immediately feeling sorry. "I can't give you what you want. A family, kids… you can't have this with me."

"I don't need this if I have you," she said determinedly.

"But you will," he told her softly. "And when you will, you're gonna need someone who'll give it to you. Someone better."

"Don't say that!" she called. "There is no someone better for me!"

"Yes, there is," he replied calmly. "You just need to find him. You were my childhood love, and I hope I was yours." Hermione tried not to pay too much attention to the fact he was using past tense. "But we both need to grow up."

"Dean!" John called. "You coming?"

"One minute!" Dean called back before leaning in and placing one soft kiss on Hermione's lips. "I had to do it one last time," he said.

"It doesn't have to be the last," Hermione suggested, her voice thick with the attempt to hold back the tears.

"Yes, it does," Dean replied, turning around and entering the Impala.

"He doesn't know what he's missing," Sanguini told her, trying to reassure the young girl who saved him.

"What about what I'm missing?" she asked, waiting before the Impala was out of sight before finally allowing herself to fall apart.

* * *

Halloween 2005.

Sam and Jess woke up in the middle of the night at the sound of someone breaking into their apartment. They both sat up, looking at each other.

"Hermione would have used the key," Jess noted, fear evident in her voice.

Sam nodded reassuringly before getting up and walking to the living room. Jessica took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down, but as the sound of fighting was heard from the other room, she shot to her feet.

The fighting quickly stopped, replaced by muffled talking and as Jess walked into the living room and opened the light, she saw her boyfriend talking to someone.

"Sam?" she asked.

"Jess, hey," Sam said, looking between her and the intruder. "Dean," he said, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

"Wait," Jess said. "Your brother Dean?"

"I love the Smurfs," Dean said, marking at her pajamas before walking closer to her. "You know, I got to tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."

Jess nodded, thinking to herself before slapping him hard across the face.

"That's for Hermione, you bastard."

* * *

**A/N: I know I'm late. I should have posted this two days ago, and I really have no excuse other than the fact I was really scared abuot the way you would react to it.**

**We're starting the show timeline now... Many things to happen next. I'll already say how sorry I am. Quick reminder that I have plans for everything.**

**Because you are all so nice and I was really not nice lately, here's a sneak peak. I hope it'll get into next week's chapter, but there's a good chance it will only be in the one after that:**

"Hermione," Bobby said, looking at his daughter, who was curled on the bed unmoving. "This can't go on any longer." She said nothing, as always, and he sighed. "Mya, it's been two months."

"No," she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "It couldn't have been two months."

"I understand that you're hurt, but –"

"No," she repeated sternly. "It couldn't have been two months. There are… things that would have happened if it would have been two months."

"You didn't come out of the room," he said. "I know it can be a bit disorienting –"

"Dad," she said, panic leaking into her voice as she sat up and, for the first time in two months, looked at him. "There are things that I would have known of if it would have been two months. It physically couldn't have been two months."

Realization slowly came upon him, and his face paled. "Balls."


	28. Jessica Moore

**A/N:**** Sorry I didn't update yeaterday! I had my final test, and didn't have time to write this chapter... On the bright side, it went well :)**

**I hope you'll like this chapter... I didn't even reread it because I wanted to upload as soon as it was done.**

**BTW, 38 reviews for the last chapter, the most any chapter had since I started this story. Thank you to everyone who reviews and to those who didn't but still read it :***

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

November 2005.

Hermione knocked on the door to the apartment Sam and Jess shared. Even after more than a year, she still felt uncomfortable walking in without knocking and instead waited patiently for one of them to open the door for her. They found it incredibly irritating.

"If it's Hermione knocking I'm not gonna come for you!" Jessica called from inside, causing the other woman to sigh and walk in.

"Okay!" she called, walking towards the living room where she knew her friend was waiting. "How are you?" she asked.

"I'm good," Jess replied with a smile, hugging her friend. "You?"

"Same as always," Hermione shrugged. "David and I broke up last week."

"What?" Jess asked as she poured the two of them a glass of wine. "Why? He was so sweet and adorable and…" She noticed the look on the brown-haired woman's face and sighed. "And you don't do adorable and sweet."

"He was just too naïve," Hermione explained, sitting down by her friend on the comfortable couch. "The moment I would have told him I was a witch he would have ran away, screaming. Or worse, fainting."

"Why can't you just be happy in a relationship with a cute guy?" Jessica questioned. "Just once – a sweet, normal guy who doesn't leave in the middle of the night because his brother dropped by unannounced and said something about their father?"

Hermione laughed softly. "Are you sure we're still talking about me?" she asked. "What happened?"

"Dean dropped by last night," Jessica said, trying her best not to pay attention to the reaction the other woman had. "Said something about their father being on a hunting trip and not answering his phone."

Hermione prayed with everything she had that her concerned expression was interpreted as her reaction to the mention of Dean's name – the wound of the breakup with still fresher than she wanted to admit – and not as understanding what "Hunting Trip" meant when it came to the Winchesters.

"He'll be back for his interview on Monday," Jess said quickly. "But… I don't know…"

"It's alright to miss him when he's gone," Hermione said with a small smile.

"It's not even the fact that he's gone," Jess told her. "It's that he left in the middle of the night."

"All men are idiots," Hermione said. "And Winchesters more than them all."

"To men being idiots," Jess said, raising her glass. "So that we will always know we're smarter than them."

"To men being idiots," Hermione agreed with a laugh, raising her glass and sipping at it.

Hermione stayed at her friend's house for most of the day. They didn't have days like these often, as Mya usually had work to do and Jess was swamped with her studies, so when it happened, they liked to make the best of it.

Around midnight, a knock was heard on the door. Hermione turned to look at it, confused as to who would come to visit so late at night, but Jess only hid a smile as she stood up and let the man who was standing in the doorway in.

"Hermione," Jess said, "I want you to meet Brady. Brady, this is Mya."

"I heard so much about you," Brady said, reaching out a hand.

"Likewise," Hermione replied politely, taking the hand and trying not to roll her eyes when Brady brought it to his lips. "Jess didn't tell me she invited you."

"I thought it was due time the two of you met," Jessica said, oblivious to the glare her friend was sending her way. "You know Brady was the one who introduced me with Sam?"

"I know," Hermione said, recalling the time Sam said he's been wanting to set up the two of them. Needless to say, she hadn't loved that plan back than any more than she did now.

Jess looked between the two of them, smiling widely. "I'll leave you two to talk," she said, walking into the kitchen.

An awkward silence followed, Hermione because she didn't, at any point, see Brady as someone she considered dating and Brady, because he noticed the way Hermione was treating him.

"Let's be done with it already," she muttered. "Both Sam and Jess want us to be together, so I'm gonna make it clear right now. I'm sure you're a lovely fella and all, but you're not my type."

"You're more for the danger-seeking, muscled type?" he asked with a small smile.

"What?" Hermione asked. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Well," Brady said thoughtfully, "both Ron Weasley and Dean Winchester fit into this frame, and they're the only serious relationships you ever had."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked, reaching out to her coat's inner pocket and grabbing her wand.

"I know a lot of things," Brady said. "For example, I know that piece of wood isn't going to work on me."

Eyes widening in fear and surprise, Hermione pulled out her wand. "Stupefy!" she called out, but the spell had done nothing. Brady's eyes turned black for a moment before black smoke erupted from his mouth and turned at Hermione.

"No!" she called out, trying to fight the smoke that choked her. "No!"

Her body was on fire. Every cell of her body burned and she tried to scream, only to find her mouth wasn't functioning. She fought against the foreign presence in her mind, putting up her Occlumency shields in a desperate attempt to push it away.

"That's interesting," she heard her own voice saying. "I never possessed a witch before, I must admit it's not nearly as fun as I thought it would be. Don't worry," he added. "I'll let you go once I'm done."

_Done with what?_ She thought, forgetting he could hear her until she heard a dark chuckle escaping her lips.

"You'll see," he said just as Jess rushed into the room.

"What happened?" she asked. "I heard you scream. What happened to Brady?"

"Brady's gone," the Demon said.

"Mya," Jess said, looking scared. "What happened to your eyes?"

"Did I forget to mention?" the Demon asked with a smile. "Hermione's gone, too."

Hermione felt her hand rising, and Jess was thrown against the wall, choking.

_No!_ Hermione screamed. _Stop it! No!_

"Hush," the Demon told her. "It will all be over soon. Sam should be here in about half an hour – just enough time to get it all arranged."

He started moving Brady's body outside, and Hermione sunk into a dark corner of her mind. A Demon. How could she had let this happen? She was raised by Bobby Singer, for crying out loud! She was prepared for every single situation, starting with Dark Wizards attacks and up to supernatural monsters' attacks.

She didn't think a Demon would show up in the middle of the night in Sam and Jess' house, and that was her first mistake. Her second was not anticipating he would try to possess her once realizing who – and what – she was.

She watched, helpless, as the Demon pushed Jess up to the ceiling, creating a gash in the middle of her stomach. When Sam returned, she tried to scream at him to get away, to escape, to do _anything_ other than get into the apartment.

The Demon laughed when Hermione tried to cry out as fire enveloped the building. Thankfully, Sam managed to get out – or, rather Dean pulled him outside.

It wasn't until the black Impala drove into the night that the burning stopped. The black smoke choked her again, this time as it came out. It ended just as abruptly as it began, leaving her emotionally and mentally exhausted.

* * *

January 2006.

"Hermione," Bobby said, looking at his daughter, who was curled on the bed unmoving. "This can't go on any longer." She said nothing, as always, and he sighed. "Mya, it's been two months."

She didn't remember what happened after Jess died.

All she knew is that she woke up the next morning in Ron's bed, hungover and broken. As it turned out, she showed up in his flat the night before after trying – and failing – to drink herself into incoherence. She asked him to help her forget the only way they knew how to, and he did.

She stayed with him for another day as he helped her come back to her senses, dealing with the grief that hit her, all at once. Harry arrived later that afternoon with a hug and his condolences, and she cried to his chest for what felt like hours.

Together, the two friends brought her back to Bobby's house and explained him what happened before going to contact Kook, who told her to take as long as she needed. Bobby led her back into her old room where she laid on the bed, unmoving and unresponsive, and stayed that way until that very moment.

"No," she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "It couldn't have been two months."

Bobby tried to recover from the fact that such a simple sentence being the first thing that caused a response from his daughter, who refused to do as much as eat since Jessica died and Sam left.

"I understand that you're hurt," he started cautiously, "but –"

"No," she repeated sternly. "It couldn't have been two months. There are… things that would have happened if it would have been two months."

"You didn't come out of the room," he said. "I know it can be a bit disorienting –"

"Dad," she said, panic leaking into her voice as she sat up and, for the first time in two months, looked at him. "There are things that I would have known of if it would have been two months. It physically couldn't have been two months."

Realization slowly came upon him, and his face paled. "Balls," he muttered. "I'll… We should…"

"Call Ginny," she said. "Floo her or… or something. And we… we need to set up a meeting with a Healer."

"Mya, are you sure that –"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said. "Trust me, I would have known if I would have gotten my period. I haven't."

"Do you…" he hesitated for a moment. "Do you know who…"

"It might be David," she said. "But we were very careful about using protection. So that means…" she trailed off.

"I'll call Ron, as well," Bobby said, walking out of the room. "And Mya?" She turned to look at him again. "No matter what happens, you know I'm here, right?"

She nodded, falling back on the bed and into her thoughts.


	29. Something New

**A/N:**** As usual, super stressed about posting this. I hope you would like it even though most of you were against some things that are happening and despite it being a short chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

January 2006.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione turned her head to look at Harry, who was sitting next to her. At some point during the half of an hour they were waiting for her appointment, their hands intertwined and now he was holding her tight. The simple acknowledgement of that calmed her down slightly.

Slightly, but not enough.

"No," she admitted. "I'm so nervous."

"About what?"

"I'm sitting here, waiting to know whether or not I'm pregnant and if I am, from whom," Hermione said sully. "What do you think I'm nervous about?"

"I think there's, as usual, a lot more on your mind than you let on," he said with a small smile. "What is it?"

Hermione sighed. "I've spent the past two months in my room," she said. "Barely eating, rarely sleeping… Would the baby be alright?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Harry noted.

"I know, but if the baby is David's…" she trailed off for a moment. "I drank a whole bottle of Firewhiskey before I showed up on Ron's apartment. I was –" She stopped again, more abruptly this time.

She didn't tell anyone about Brady so far, and she knew now wouldn't be the right time to do so.

Noticing the way her expression darkened, Harry decided to stray away from this subject.

"What are you going to do about the baby's father?" he questioned.

"I have absolutely no idea," she said. "I don't even know if I'm gonna tell David if it's his."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"He's not ready for that sort of things," she explained. "He's not ready to be a father."

"And Ron is?"

"Ron has a support system filled with Weasleys that can help him," Hermione said. "And, regardless, I would never lie to him."

"You know he plans to propose if he finds out it's his," Harry noted.

"Of course I know," Hermione muttered.

"What will you say?" he asked.

"You know bloody well what I'm going to say," she replied, just as a Healer came out of one of the rooms.

"Miss Singer," she said kindly. "If you please follow me."

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, and he led her to the room, still hand in hand.

"First of all, I should calm you down by saying that everything that happens between the walls of this room is protected with Healer-Patient confidentiality," the Healer said. "So you don't have to worry about any information reaching the press."

"Thank god for small comforts," Hermione muttered.

"Indeed," the Healer agreed. "I understand you're here to have a pregnancy test?"

"Among others," Harry said. "If we get a positive, we'll need to have several more tests."

"Understood," the Healer told them with a smile before performing a complicated looking spell. A ball of white light came out of Hermione's abdomen and after a few seconds, changed its color to pink. "Positive," she said, looking up at Harry and Hermione.

"Could you perform a spell about the father?" Hermione asked.

"I apologize," the Healer said. "It's impossible to check the identity of the father if he isn't in the room." Her eyes darted to Harry for a moment, before her attention was back on her patient.

"But you can check if they're Muggle or Magical, right?" Hermione asked, and the Healer nodded. "Do it."

After a couple more agonizing moments, in which the Healer had cast more spells than Hermione thought was possible, she straightened up. "Both parents are Magical," she said.

"Small comforts," Hermione muttered.

"You'll still have to inform Ron," Harry noted.

"But we can deal with that later," she retorted. "One last thing," she told the Healer. "The baby… is it okay?"

"You're in your ninth week of the pregnancy," the Healer said. "The placenta seems healthy. You should eat more meat products, though."

"You should eat more, period," Harry said with a small smile.

"It's too soon to determine the gender but, all in all, the baby seems fine," the Healer summarized. "Anything else?"

"No, thank you," Hermione said politely, rising from where she was laying on the bed. "When should our next appointment be?"

"Let's start with three weeks from now," the Healer said. "After I'll have a better knowledge of the baby's development rate, it might change."

"Thank you very much," Harry said again.

"No need," the Healer said. "I'm just doing my job."

As they walked out of the room, Hermione released a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her hands were trembling, but a heavy weight was lifted off her heart. The baby was fine.

"So," Harry said. "What's next?"

"I'm going to go home and tell my dad what we found out," Hermione said. "And I also need to inform Kook. I'll come back later today and tell Ron, and we'll decide how to tell the rest of the family tomorrow."

Harry smiled softly at her. "Things will be okay, you know," he said.

"I always knew that," she replied. "It's just easier to believe right now."

* * *

"How was today?" Ron asked, as he prepared tea for the both of them.

"Exhausting," Hermione replied, accepting the cup he offered her. "I already talked to my dad, and I explained the situation to Kook, as much as I could. He said some changed will have to be made but I could still keep my job, if I wanted to."

"Do you?" Ron questioned. "I mean, it might be hard, wouldn't it? To raise a child and keep doing what you do…"

"I'll have help, hopefully," Hermione said. "I suppose I'll know better later tonight."

"Are you going to talk to David?" Ron asked carefully.

"I don't need to talk to David," Hermione said quietly, causing Ron to stop and look at her. "The Healer said that both the baby's parents are Magical. We'll have to go back there and make sure, but… it's yours. Couldn't have been anybody else's."

"Wow," Ron said, putting his cup down. "I… Wow."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

"Well…" Ron started carefully. "I know this wasn't planned. And I definitely know these weren't the circumstances you wanted it to happen. Not the circumstances either of us wanted it to happen," he corrected himself. "But… you deserve better than just that. Better than…" He took a deep breath. "Better than a child out of marriage."

"Ron," Hermione sighed, but he wasn't listening.

Instead, he pulled out a small velvet box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing the ring inside to her. "Hermione," he said. "Will you marry me?"

"Ron…" Hermione sighed again. "No."

"What?" Ron asked, confused.

"You have the best intentions for this proposal," she said. "And yet you still do it for all of the wrong reasons. I know a child out of marriage in the Wizarding world is scandalous for a woman, but I was raised the Muggle way. My dad taught me to marry out of love."

"Mione," Ron started, but she cut him off.

"Please, let me finish," she all but begged. "I love you. I really do – you're one of my best friends and we had been through so much together. And now, we're having a child. Something special, which is ours, and no one else's, and we will always have that. Always. But I don't want to marry you, just like you don't really want to marry me."

"I was trying to do the right thing," Ron mumbled, embarrassed.

"And you did what you thought was best," Hermione said. "It's just not what I want. You don't need to marry me to do the right thing. You don't need to make an honest woman out of me."

"So what do I need to do?" Ron questioned.

"Take care of the child," Hermione said. "Raise it with me. not as husband and wife, but simply as parents."

"I was planning to do that anyway," Ron said.

"And that's one of the things that makes you such a wonderful person," Hermione replied, smiling softly. "Now that we've got that off the table, we need to start planning forwards. First thing should be how we are telling your family – and especially Molly – that we are having a child out of marriage."

"She isn't going to like it," Ron warned.

"She doesn't need to like it," Hermione retorted. "This isn't her life, it's ours. All we need is for her to accept it."

"It won't be easy," Ron said carefully. "But we could make it work."

"I really hope it would," Hermione said, tears rising to her eyes. "Because this baby is a Weasley, and that means they deserve nothing less than the best."

"Did I ever tell you you're perfect?" Ron asked.

"Not often enough," Hermione replied.

"Obviously," Ron said with a smile. "Anything else?"

"One last thing," Hermione said, going through her mental list. "Next time I show up in your house in the middle of the night drunk and wanting to forget –"

"Yes?" Ron asked, amused.

"Throw a bucket of water on me."


	30. In Between

**A/N:**** More of a filler chapter with everything that happened between Mya finding out she was pregnant and "Devil's Trap".**

**Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

March 2006.

Mrs. Weasley didn't take the announcement that Hermione was pregnant with Ron's child but the two of them weren't getting married as bad as they thought she would. That wasn't to say she was happy about it – she still tutted every time somebody spoke of the subject – but after Ron made it clear that it was their lives and, therefore, _their_ choice, she moved on, choosing to focus on having more grandchildren instead.

Kook was also more understanding over the matter than Hermione thought he would be. The American wizarding community wasn't as old-fashioned as the British community, so the main cause for his distress regarding the matter was losing one of his best field Aurors.

He supported her in any way he could, starting with supplying her a license to use Portkeys at any time seeing as it was recommended for pregnant women not to apparate or use the Floo Network.

Bobby was, without a doubt, the most stressed out of all parties involved. The fact that his little girl was pregnant caused him so much distress that he insisted she would move back home so that he could take care of her, but it became clear very fast that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

He'd never had to take care of a pregnant woman before – he didn't have any kids with Karen and Marlene only told him after Mya was born – and so he visited the Burrow twice a day asking Arthur different questions until Hermione gave him her books about pregnancy, which he eagerly read.

Then, of course, came Harry, Ron and Ginny.

Harry, ever the brotherly figure who made it clear to Hermione that he would be there for her and the baby, no matter what, and showed it by never missing a meeting with her Healer.

"Got to make sure my future niece or nephew is healthy," he told her with a smile when she pointed it out to him.

Ron, who was thinking forwards for the first time in his life and already started making plans for the baby.

"It's a girl," Hermione told him after an emotionally exhausting day for the two of them, in which she had refused him to come in to the Healer's room since he was unable to sit down. "We're having a girl."

"I always wanted a little girl," Ron said, his eyes shining with happy tears. "I… I thought about naming my daughter Rose, but I know you want her named after Jess –"

"Jessica Rose," Hermione cut him off with a small smile. "We can call her Jessica Rose."

And, last but definitely not least, Ginny, who was always willing to offer her friend a shoulder to cry on. For she was the only one who saw through the older witch's façade and realized that as much as Hermione was excited over being a mother, and despite the fact that when the baby was born she would love them more than anything else in the whole world, she wasn't happy.

Because, at the end of the day, it wasn't Ron she wanted to have a baby with.

* * *

April 2006.

Dean was sitting in his hospital bed, looking at his phone. He knew she probably hadn't changed her number, but that didn't mean she would pick up when he called. After all, it had been two years since he broke up with her. She's probably moved on.

Sighing, he put the phone down and picked up the remote, searching for something to watch on the TV.

"You ever actually watched daytime TV?" he asked Sam when the latter walked into the room. "It's terrible."

"I talked to your doctor," Sam said.

"That fabric soft teddy bear," Dean ignored him, looking at the screen. "I'll hunt that bitch down."

"Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean replied, looking up at him. "All right, well. Looks like you're gonna leave town without me."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "I'm not gonna leave you here."

"Hey, you take care of that car or I swear I'll haunt your ass," Dean added.

"I don't think that's funny," Sam told him.

"Uh, come on," Dean smiled, but the smile didn't have any feeling in it. "It's a little funny. Look, Sam." He sighed. "What can I say, man. It's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

"Don't talk like that, all right?" Sam told him. "We still have options."

"What options?" Dean questioned. "Get burial or cremation?"

"You don't really believe that," Sam insisted.

"Yes, I do," Dean said.

"So why haven't you called Mya yet?"

"I'm poison, Sammy," Dean replied. "She doesn't need me in her life."

"If you're so sure you're about to die, call her," Sam retorted. "You won't be in her life if you're dead."

"What about you?" Dean asked. "It's not like you talked to her since Jess died."

"It's different," Sam said.

"How is it different?" Dean asked. "You're grieving. She's grieving. Grieve together."

"Look," Sam said desperately, "we're not talking about me right now."

"When it comes to Mya, none of us are free of sin," Dean told him, laying back down. "You want to lecture me about not calling her? Call her first. At least I broke up with her instead of just disappearing."

"At least I don't claim to be dying!"

"I don't claim to be dying, I am dying!" Dean called. "I know it's not easy," he added before Sam could respond. "But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it."

Sam looked disbelieving for a couple of seconds before replying, "Watch me."

* * *

June 2006.

Hermione was sitting at the bar with Kook, waiting for him to return with his Butterbeer and her coke. Her body was killing her – her legs ached even though she spent whole days sitting, her head was pounding no matter how much she drank and every once in a while, she would feel a kick at her abdomen.

But when Kook asked her to join him tonight, she felt like she owed him enough to show up.

"How's Becca?" she asked him as he sat down, grabbing her drink.

"She's great," Kook said. "Hearing about your pregnancy made her want to have a baby, as well."

"I understand you didn't tell her about all of the side effects of pregnancy," Hermione muttered. "You think dealing with my mood changes is bad? Wait until you get it 24/7."

"I think I'll manage," Kook laughed. "You know, Jefferson is retiring."

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Didn't think he ever would."

It was true. Tom Jefferson, the head of the American Ministry of International Law Enforcement, seemed to be a constant. In a job in which many came and went, he stayed for over fifty years.

"He's getting old," Kook said. "And tired, mostly. He wants to spend some time with his grandchildren."

"Well, that's good for him," Hermione said honestly.

"As it turns out, it's even better for me," Kook said. "They offered me his job."

"Really?" Hermione asked, excited for her friend's behalf. "Oh, Kook, that's amazing!"

"And that's not all of it," Kook went on. "I want you to take my job."

Hermione looked at him, shock visible in each and every one of her features. Taking Kook's place? Being the head of the Undercover Unit, at such a young age?

Well, she wasn't so young anymore, was she? Twenty six years old already, and getting closer to twenty seven as the days passed. Besides, Harry was almost a year younger than her, and he was offered the position as Head Auror, Ron was his second-in-command, Neville was the youngest Hogwarts Professor and Head of Gryffindor house…

"I'm flattered," she found herself saying.

"You don't need to be flattered," Kook told her. "You need to say yes."

"Kook…"

"Don't 'Kook' me, Singer," he grumbled. "You're the best person for this job. You've proved yourself over and over again and you know how to make things run. I need to know that when I'm gone, things will run smoothly, and there's nobody else I'd trust."

"I'm going on maternity leave in less than two months," Hermione said.

"Which is exactly why I talked to Jefferson," Kook replied. "While you're gone, I'll start learning more about his job and for a month after you return, I'll teach you everything you don't already know about mine."

"Then, he steps down, you take his place and I take yours," Hermione said in understanding. "A clear change."

"He wouldn't have it any other way," Kook agreed.

Realization came upon Hermione. "Jefferson knows I'll be taking your job?" she asked, amazed. "He agreed?"

"He said there was no one better," Kook said with a smile.

Having Jefferson say something of that sort about you… Both of them knew it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"Well, then," Kook said, raising his Butterbeer for a toast. "Hermione Singer, Head of the Undercover Unit."

"Anthony Kook," Hermione said, raising her coke to touch his glass. "Head of the Ministry for International Law Enforcement."

"Yeah," Kook said, smiling as he drank from his beer. "Who would've thought, eh?"

* * *

July 2006.

Dean had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that Yellow Eyes had his dad, and that he and Sam needed help. He was on autopilot, driving the Impala on instinct, Sam was by his side and that was all that mattered. He didn't even know where he was driving to until he saw the familiar building.

"Are you sure that's smart?" Sam asked. "I'm guessing he's not our biggest fan right now."

"He's the only one we can talk to right now," Dean replied. "He won't hold a grudge against Dad for something that happened years ago."

"Against Dad?" Sam questioned. "I'm more worried he'll hold a grudge against _us_."

"Well, it's still our best shot," Dean retorted, driving under the old sign reading, _"Singer's Salvage Yard"_.


	31. Winchesters and Weasleys

**A/N:**** Well, that took longer than I planned but not as long as last time, so that's got to count for something :)**

**This chapter is _'Devil's Trap'_, next chapter is _'In My Time Of Dying'_ because I thought it deserved a chapter of its own.**

**Also, I added a new cover image for this story (Nothing great, I know, but I'm learning) and you can also see it in my Tumblr account Mayalr96 (Though I don't upload there very often) and my Pinterest account Maya lr96****. (Notice the space)**

**Now that that's all done and over with - the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

July 2006.

Hermione was bored nearly to death, laying in her bed at Bobby's house. She was due to give labor any day now, and her father was so stressed about the idea that he forced her to bed rest, no matter how many times she told him it was unnecessary.

She felt a tingle of pain in her abdomen and – certain it was from hunger, and knowing that Bobby wasn't supposed to wake up any time soon – she decided enough was enough and pulled herself up to a standing position. Slowly and carefully, she made her way downstairs, only to be met with constant knocking on the door.

"Who comes to visit at six-thirty am?" she muttered to herself as she walked towards the door and opened it wide.

Her first reaction was to close the door again, leaning on it and taking a couple of breaths to calm herself down. Once she did, she looked through the peephole, cursing herself for not doing so before.

"What d'you need?" she asked sharply.

"Help," Sam's voice said. "Yellow Eyes got our Dad. Please," he added, almost desperately.

Hermione sighed, knowing she could never turn back someone who needed her help, no matter how angry she was at them. It simply wasn't the way she was raised.

"The door's open, I'll go wake up my Dad," she said, turning around and all but running towards the stairs. It took a while but she managed to wake Bobby up, explaining him shortly about the situation downstairs and making him promise not to use any firearms against the boys.

She wanted to stay up until they left, but also knew that it could be days until then and that she was hungry. Besides, she couldn't avoid them forever.

"You can settle in here," she said, marking at the workplace she used when she was working from home or when Bobby needed research. "I'll bring you everything you need. Dad, could you please put some coffee on and make breakfast?" He nodded and she turned to look at the boys, who still hadn't uttered a word from the moment she came down. "Are you okay?"

"You…" Sam muttered, staring at her stomach. "When did that happen?"

"Well, you were gone for about nine months, so I'd say that's when," Hermione retorted. "Now, are you just going to stand there and look stupid or are we gonna save John?"

Dean shook his head, as if recovering from a trance, and Sam sat down and started reading material about Demons.

"Here you go," Hermione said, handing Dean one of two flasks.

"What is this?" he asked, opening it and sniffing. "Holy Water?"

"That one is," Hermione said, looking longingly at the flask still in her hand. "This is whiskey."

Dean looked at it for a moment before opening it and drinking, taking a deep breath afterwards to calm himself down.

"Thanks," he said, looking between Hermione and Bobby, who now reentered the room with a plate of breakfast for Hermione. "Both of you. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if we should come."

"Nonsense," Bobby said. "Your daddy needs help."

"The last time we saw you, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot," Dean told him, sending a worried glance towards Hermione, who was putting a hand on her pregnant stomach and breathing deeply. "You cocked the shotgun and everything."

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Bobby shrugged. "John just has that effect on people."

"Yeah," Dean said, understanding starting to dawn at him. "I guess he does."

_Could it be that Hermione never told Bobby about us?_ he wondered.

"None of that matters now," Hermione quickly said, as if reading his thoughts. "All that matters is that you get him back."

"Guys," Sam said thoughtfully. "This book… I've never seen anything like it."

"Key of Solomon?" Bobby asked him, walking towards him. "It's the real deal, all right."

"And these protective circles," Sam went on, marking at the drawing in the book. "They really work?"

"Hell yeah," Bobby replied. "You get a demon in one, they're trapped. They're powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel," he joked.

"The man knows his stuff," Dean said.

"Of course he does," Hermione said affectionately.

"I'll tell you something else, too," Bobby told the boys. "This is some serious crap you boys stepped in. Normal year, I hear, say, three demonic possessions, maybe four, tops."

"We heard of twenty-seven so far this year," Hermione told them. "More and more demons are walking among us." Chill went down her spine at the thought of Brady. "A lot more."

"Do you know why?"

"No, but I know it's something big. The storm's coming, and you boys, your daddy – you are smack in the middle of it."

Out of nowhere, Rumsfeld – the dog Bobby bought to remind himself of Sirius – started barking, followed closely by a pained whimper.

"Rumsfeld!" Hermione called, distressed as she attempted to go and make sure he was alright.

Bobby shoved her back into the chair softly but sternly and looked out the window.

"What is it?" he whispered, causing Hermione to be at the edge of her seat, waiting to make sure everything was alright and ignoring the fact that the pain was stronger now. "Something's wrong."

As the words left his mouth, many things happened at once.

The door to the house was blown away from its hinges, and a woman Hermione was certain must've been Meg walked inside. Dean pulled out the bottle of Holy Water from his pocket and Hermione grabbed her wand, ignoring the stabbing of pain in her abdomen.

"No more crap, okay?" Meg said, looking between the four of them.

Dean stepped forwards, trying to pour the Holy Water on her but with nothing more than a flick of her wrist, she threw him on the bookshelf. Hermione's wand suffered a similar destiny, but the Demon seemed to have had different plans for her as she used her powers to glue Hermione to the nearest wall.

"I want the colt, Sam," she said. "The real colt – Right now."

"We don't have it on us," Sam said, slowly moving towards the trap that was drawn in the living room. Bobby followed him carefully, not taking his eyes off his daughter who was still in the Demon's mercy. "We buried it."

"Didn't I say 'No more crap'?" Meg asked, slowly moving herself and Hermione after them and cutting the witch's airways as she did. "I swear, after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I've got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed."

Hermione was focusing on what wandless magic she knew, trying to summon her wand or anything that might hurt Meg, but it was of no use. She was, again, controlled by a Demon, and all she could do was hope this time would end better than the last time.

"First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun," Meg went on. "And then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Suddenly, Hermione was able to breathe once more, sliding to the floor where she took ragging breaths, her breathing heavy due to the nearly unbearable pain in her abdomen and the lack of oxygen.

"Actually," Dean said, coming from behind the Demon. "We were counting on it." His eyes travelled up to the ceiling and Meg's eyes followed, the Devil's Trap on the ceiling now in her view. "Gotcha."

Bobby went straight to Hermione as Sam and Dean took to tying the Demon to a chair inside the trap.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and Hermione was in so much pain she couldn't do anything but shake her head. "Did she do anything to you?"

_No, she didn't,_ Hermione wanted to say. _It was only the flashbacks from when Brady possessed her, the oxygen which was still not reaching her lungs and the unbearable pain from what she thought must have been labors._

"Portkey," she muttered in between breaths. "And wand. I need… St. Mungo's."

The three men in the room – all of them, Hermione was amused to discover, knew what St. Mungo's Hospital was – looked up in nervousness.

"Are you hurt?" Dean said, closing the distance between them in two long strides as Bobby ran off to retrieve Hermione's wand and the Portkey Kook arranged for her. "What did that bitch do to you?"

"She didn't…" Hermione hissed in pain. "I- Damn, that hurt!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Bobby returned with the items she requested.

"_Expecto Patronum_," Hermione said, thinking of endless happy memories she had with Dean, Sam and her father in this very house. Two otters materialized before her, waiting for further instructions. "In labor. Dad's taking me to St. Mungo's. Come quickly."

The otters flew away, starting their long journey to England and Hermione cursed as another wave of pain coursed through her.

"Who did you send it to?" Sam asked.

"Harry and Ron," Hermione replied.

"Mya," Bobby said, looking between the bound Demon in his study and his daughter. "I…"

"You're needed here, I know," Hermione said quickly. "Which is why you're taking me to St. Mungo's with the Portkey and then coming back here. As soon as – Merlin's pointy hat, couldn't Molly have warned me it hurts this much?" She took a deep breath once more and went on. "As soon as you're free, you're coming. Don't worry."

"I'm pretty worried," Bobby admitted.

"Then get me to the friggin hospital," Hermione ordered, grasping the Portkey and marking her father to do the same.

* * *

Hours later found Hermione sitting in her room at St. Mungo's hospital, holding Jessica Rose in her arms as people came and went. Ron went a couple of minutes earlier to bring her some coffee, and Harry and Ginny had to go back home and take care of little Albus Severus who was born a couple of months earlier, but Andromeda had just arrived with Teddy so that he could see his god-sister.

"She's so small!" the nine-year-old called. "She's smaller than Albus and James were," he added knowingly, taking a closer look.

"She's perfectly fine," Andy told him, smiling at Hermione and the baby. "You weren't that much bigger yourself."

"She'll grow," Hermione added, beaming at the baby in her hands. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"She really is," Andromeda said. "Let's go, Teddy, I'm sure your Godmother could use some rest."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "And… Did you hear anything from Bobby?"

"I'll try to contact him again," the older witch said, ushering her grandson out of the room.

Time passed, and no response came from Bobby. A Healer-Assistant came to take Jess to the Nursery for the night, Ron went back to his apartment, and still there was no Bobby in sight. A Healer came in to check on Hermione a couple of times, ordering her to go to sleep time after time, but Hermione was wide awake.

At last, after what seemed to be an eternity, the glow of a Portkey drifted from the hallway and into the room, and Hermione sat upright.

"What's going on?" she asked her father as soon as he entered the room. "Is everyone okay? I tried to call you a couple of times – Molly and Andy Floo-Called – I didn't know what to think!"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "But… There was an accident."

Hermione's blood froze in her veins. "What accident?"

"The boys found Yellow-Eyes," Bobby explained. "He possessed John, and… they were all in pretty bad shape to begin with after the Demon escaped. A truck crushed into the Impala, and…" His voice broke.

"Tell me," Hermione demanded, tears rising to her eyes. "I need you to tell me, Dad. Please."

"John and Sam are out of any danger," Bobby said. "Dean's got severe head trauma. The doctors say his chances of surviving are…" He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

With no thought in her mind other than Dean, Hermione grabbed her coat and rushed out of the room to tell the Healers she was leaving.


	32. In His Time of Dying

**A/N:**** It had been too long since my last update. A month - last one was Aug. 25th, and we're on Sep. 25th. I had a really rough time writing this, and am so so sorry.**

**Here goes the deal, though: It is now around 10:30pm where I am, September 25th. I am uploading this chapter and going to sleep. Tomorrow is my birthday. Do you get where I'm going?**

**Other than that, I got a lot of Anti-Mya reviews last chapter - and rightfully so. She acted like an idjit. You didn't really think Bobby would let that pass, did you?**

**One last thing - this chapter is dedicated to _Cassie_. If you're reading this, you know what this is for. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

_Previously:_

_With no thought in her mind other than Dean, Hermione grabbed her coat and rushed out of the room to tell the Healers she was leaving._

July 2006.

Before she could make it more than two steps into the hallway, though, a hand grasped her arm and dragged her back in.

"And where the hell d'you think you're going?" Bobby asked sternly.

"Dean is in a hospital –" Hermione started.

"And so are you," Bobby retorted. "And so is your daughter, who is less than a day old."

"But –"

"You just gave birth," Bobby reminded her needlessly. "Putting Jessica aside, there's a reason you're hospitalized."

"I'm fine –"

"I talked to your Healer before I came in here," Bobby said. "You are on about twenty potions which are so complicated I don't even know how to say their names. You're not in your right mind – enough not in your right mind, that any rights to make decisions about you had been transferred to your emergency contact, me."

"I have to go see him," Hermione insisted.

"The only thing you have to do right now is to climb back into your bed and go to sleep," Bobby said. "In the morning after you wake up – and the potions' effect will start to fade – we will have a _conversation_ about whether or not you can leave. And even if you can," he added before she could say another word. "It will only be after we've found a suitable arrangement to your baby, and only with the escort of a Healer – or, at the very least, a Healer Assistant."

"So what?" Hermione asked her father. "I need to stay in this bed while Dean is possibly _dying_ –"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, I'm gonna go out and give the Healer Assistant outside direct orders to _Stupefy_ you if you as much as get your finger out this bed, and then I'm gonna see my grandkid. You are without your wand, and your magic is weakened. _Do not try me_. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Good," Bobby said, walking out of the room. "And that's 'Dad' for you."

* * *

As the Healer-Assistant Bobby spoke to the previous night expected, when Hermione finally woke up the next day, around noon, she had no memory of the previous night. As Bobby watched her chatting happily with Charlie, and wondering aloud when can she see Jessica Rose, he started having second thoughts about having to pop her bubble and tell her about Dean.

However, he also knew that if Dean died and Hermione found out he knew and didn't tell her, she wouldn't forgive him easily – if ever. Sighing to himself, he knocked on the door.

"Mya?" he asked. "Can I have a moment?"

"Sure," Hermione said with a smile, before noticing the grim expression on her father's face. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Bobby sighed. "It's… It's Dean. The boys had a car accident last night and he…"

"How bad?" Hermione asked, her hand clutching the mattress of the bed she was laying on.

"The doctors don't think he's gonna make it."

Hermione's face turned white.

"I…" she started. "I need to… Can I…" She looked at her father. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I can't tell you that, Mya," Bobby said, coming closer and sitting next to her. "I can help you make a reasonable choice once we've got the options, but I can't tell you what to do."

"I have a baby to take care of," she stated. "And I probably can't be discharged right now, can I?"

"But?" Bobby asked, knowing what her answer would be.

"I need to see him," she said. "I need… I need to tell him…"

"If you want to see him, we'll find a way for you to see him," Bobby said. "But you need to decide if this is really what you want."

"I need it," she said. "But Jessica… Oh, Merlin."

"I'll talk to Molly and the Healers and we'll try to figure something out," Bobby said. "Are you sure?"

Hermione looked up at him, and he noticed for the first time the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks.

"I love him," she stated simply. "Even after everything… I love him."

"I'll talk to Molly," Bobby nodded, leaving the room and trying to keep himself together, knowing that there was more to do at the moment than comforting the crying woman.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

The Healer's soft voice felt like chalk on board to Hermione's ears as she looked at the big hospital. She knew she was lucky this Healer was a Muggle-Born and therefore knew how to act in a Muggle environment, and that she should be thankful that the Maria agreed to escort her here on her day off, but she still couldn't help but feel resentment over everything and everyone.

_Why does all of those things have to happen to me?_ she wondered. _And why do they all have to happen together? Attacked by a Demon, gave birth and found out that the man she loved was possibly dying… All in the span of twenty four hours, no less._

Maybe it was simply her. She sighed. First everything that happened with Harry and now this… _No,_ she thought determinedly. _I will not let it consume me. I was raised better than that._

"No," she replied honestly to the question Maria asked. "But I'm gonna do it anyway."

Both witches cringed as they walked into the building. Unlike St. Mungo's, which smelt like healing potions but still had an aura of good magic, Muggle hospitals smelt like disinfectants, and felt like a place that had seen death.

More than likely because it was just that.

It took them three annoyed nurses and one kind doctor to find Dean's room, but once they did, they also found Sam. He was sitting on the floor, next to some odd-looking board, but Hermione didn't pay much attention to it.

"Sam?" she asked, her voice broken and he jumped to his feet almost immediately, pulling her into a hug.

"You shouldn't have come," he muttered, though he didn't sound as if he actually meant it.

"You know I had to," she replied, and he pulled away.

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing at Maria.

"That's Maria, my Healer," Hermione said.

"Healer?"

"That was one of the conditions Mr. Singer had made for her to be able to come here," Maria said. "He was quite… unnegotiable about it."

"You just gave birth," Sam remembered. "Mya… You really shouldn't have come."

"Of course I came, you idiot," Mya said fondly. "What are you doing?"

"Don't laugh," Sam warned, waiting for her to nod before resuming. "I'm setting up a Séance."

"A Séance?" Hermione repeated. "Of all things?"

"I think Dean's spirit is here," Sam explained. "I heard someone calling earlier, and a glass of water was thrown away when Dad and I fought, but neither of us did it."

"Okay…" Hermione said. "So – assuming Dean's spirit is _actually _here – you think you'll be able to contact him with a board you bought at an All Dollar shop?"

"I'm trying here, okay?" Sam asked. "It's more than what Dad does."

Hermione sighed, but having learned long ago that it was best not to interfere when Sam and John fought, she said nothing. Instead, she sat down in front of the Séance board. Sam sat in front of her, and Maria settled down between them – though Hermione was certain it was more for show than for anything else.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Dean, are you here?"

"Merlin, I feel like I'm at a slumber party," Hermione muttered, looking at the board.

She just opened her mouth to tell Sam it isn't going to work when the wooden circle in the middle of the board moved to show 'Yes'.

Hermione started at it with shock and Maria's eyes widened as Sam smiled.

"Oh, it's good to hear from you, man," he said. "It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

"It really hasn't," Hermione said, looking around in the hopes that she could see him.

The circle started moving again.

"Dean, what?" Sam asked. "'H', 'U' 'Hunt'?" he asked, and Hermione's head snapped up in fear. "What, 'hunting'?"

"Are you serious?" Mya asked, hoping she could throttle Dean on the spot. "You're dying and you're _hunting_?"

"Dean, it's in the hospital, what you're hunting?" Sam asked, ignoring Hermione. "Do you know what it is?"

"One question at a time," Maria said quietly, causing Sam to shake his head.

"What is it?" Sam asked after a moment of thought.

The circle started moving again. 'R', 'E', 'A', 'P'…

"A Reaper," Maria said. "There are rumors running in hospitals about them. They say that once a Reaper has chosen somebody…"

"Is it after you?" Hermione asked, tears choking in her throat.

'Yes'

"If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it," Maria said softly. "I'm sorry."

"No," Sam said determinedly. "No, no, no. There's got to be a way."

"There's got to be a way," Hermione repeated, though not wholeheartedly believing it herself.

"Dad will know what to do," Sam said, walking out of the room.

"I'll make sure he's alright," Maria offered, following him outside and leaving Hermione alone.

She looked around for a moment, uncertain as of what to do before sitting down by the bed and grasping Dean's hand.

"I know you're not in there," she said weakly. "But this is making me feel slightly less weird than talking to the walls, so… Hi. We didn't talk in a while, and the last time we met…" She paused, remembering what happened yesterday. "I had a baby girl," she told him. "She is absolutely beautiful. We called her Jessica Rose, but Ron is already calling her Rosie."

She thought she heard something and turned to look at the door, but there was nobody there. Barely holding back the tears, she looked back at Dean.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "That you told me to move on and I did, but… I didn't. Not really. I tried – I really did. Went on dates, dated other guys. I think I knew it wouldn't work. None of them were you.

"Jess… she's perfect, and I wouldn't trade her for anything but it's also _wrong_. She wasn't supposed to be Ron's, she was supposed to be _yours_. I wanted her to be yours." She brushed her tears, letting out a small, sad laugh. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this right now," she muttered to herself. "Don't die. You can't die – I forbid you from dying, and you know better than to get me angry by now. So just… Don't die."

Out of her sighed, the spirit of Dean reached out a hand to brush her tears away, only to have it go through her cheek. As he fisted his hand angrily, he looked up just in time to see John sending one last, sad look at the woman who loved his son before going away.

Later that day, Maria and Hermione returned to St. Mungo's hospital, their faces white and their expressions shocked. All they said to the Weasleys was that Dean is alive, but neither of the witches could forget the look on Sam's face as he was crying for help when he saw John's body.

Neither of them could forget the way Dean broke down as the doctors called time of death. Neither of them could shake the feeling of helplessness they felt when they both knew they couldn't use magic to save him.

And though neither of them could admit it aloud, both of them knew, deep in their hearts, that even if they could use magic to help John, it probably wouldn't have made a difference.


	33. Mending

**A/N:**** It's been... way too long since my last update. I know. Life has been hectic.**

**I won't write too much here, since you guys waited long enough, but there's an important AN at the end and I would really appreciate it if you took the time to read it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

August 2006.

"So you don't remember anything?" Hermione asked for what felt like – and quite possibly was – the hundredth time.

"No," Dean said from where he was laying on his bed. "Not a thing."

He may have imagined it, but he thought he saw relief mixed with her disappointed look.

"Why do you think that happened?" she asked.

"What?" Dean asked. "My near death experience?"

"That you don't remember," Hermione said. "I mean, you could be suppressing the memories – but that brings out the question of why you don't want to remember – and, also, whether or not you'll remember later on –"

"Mya," Dean sighed. "Please spare me of the nerdy talk."

A small blush started building up on Hermione's cheeks, and Dean smiled at her familiar response to his teasing.

"It's not nerdy talk," she huffed. "It's really interesting."

"To you," Dean retorted. "To me, it's nerdy talk."

"Aren't you curious, though?"

"Honestly?" he asked, his tone back to being as somber as it was since he was discharged from the hospital. "No. Not one bit. I'd much rather spend my time hunting down Yellow-Eyes."

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to reply but anything she might have said was drowned out by the sounds of the crying baby in the room next door. She sighed to herself, rising from her seat.

"Feeding time," she said with a small smile before heading towards her childhood room that now hosted a small crib.

She lifted up Jessica Rose – that small, perfect creature that was the only good thing to come out of that dreadful weekend a couple of weeks ago. Hermione herself hated breastfeeding, but it seemed like her daughter did little else other than sleep, cry for food and then eat, only to fall asleep again the moment she was no longer hungry.

Today was no different, and as soon as Jessica was no longer hungry, Hermione laid down the already sleeping baby back in the crib. Turning around, she saw Sam looking at her from the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Don't worry, I didn't see anything I don't want to," he replied, before nodding his head at the baby in the crib. "She's beautiful."

"She really is, isn't she?" Hermione beamed softly.

"What did you name her?"

"Jessica," Hermione replied. "Well, Jessica Rose Weasley, but…"

"You named her after Jess?" Sam asked, his voice breaking as he mentioned his dead girlfriend's name.

"Yeah," Hermione said sadly. "It was because of her, in a way, that Jessica was ever born, so…"

"What?" Sam asked, confused. "How?"

"I…" Hermione hesitated for a moment, before deciding he had the right to know at least a part of the truth. "I was going through a rough time after Jess died," she finally settled. "Woke up the next morning in Ron's bed."

"A drunken one-night-stand?" Sam asked, torn between shocked and amused.

"Shut up," Hermione muttered with a small smile.

"No, but really," Sam went on, "Hermione Singer –"

"I said shut up –"

"– got knocked up from a drunken one-night-stand?" he finished without missing a beat, dodging the towel Hermione threw at his direction.

"It was more complicated than that," she said.

"How?" Sam questioned. "Seems pretty simple to me. Or do I really need to explain you everything about the birds and the bees –"

"Don't you dare!" Hermione warned, laughing.

"Seriously, though," Sam said, looking at the woman who was her sister in all but blood. "What happened?"

"It took me two months to realize," Hermione admitted. "I never left my bed – I didn't sleep, barely ate. And then, I realized just how long it had been, and that my period was late."

At this, Sam looked shameful. "I'm sorry," he said. "I never stopped to think how much Jessica's death affected you, as well."

"You were grieving," Hermione said.

"So were you," Sam insisted. "At least I was functioning –"

"Don't mention it," Hermione cut in sharply. "I have Jessica Rose thanks to it, so it was worth it."

"Speaking of Jessica Rose," Sam started. "You and Ron…"

"No," Hermione quickly said. "He tried – offered to make an _honest woman_ out of me," she added with a roll of her eyes, "But I refused. We don't work as a couple."

"I have a feeling a lot more happened during the past nine months," Sam muttered.

"Same here," Hermione replied. "Would you like to sit, and – I'm not supposed to drink alcohol while breastfeeding, but – maybe a cup of tea?"

"I'd love to," Sam said, smiling as he let Hermione pass before following her to the kitchen.

Maybe he still had a chance to fix his mistakes.

* * *

Dean was sitting in the kitchen of Bobby's house, having an intense staring contest with the bottle of Scotch in front of him as he tried to decide whether or not he wanted another glass.

His feeling lately travelled between an out-of-character emotional rollercoaster and complete emotional numbness – the latter of which usually coming after his fourth shot of alcohol. He was now past his third for that morning, and was starting to crave another one.

Hermione would be pissed if she was here, as would Bobby. He knew that without a hint of doubt.

But they weren't here. Mya and Sammy were in the city, and Bobby was clearing a nest a couple of states over. Dean was here, all alone other than the sleeping baby in the room upstairs and –

He sighed, getting up and stepping away from the kitchen table as he made his way upstairs towards Hermione's childhood room. He walked a couple of steps into the room and then stopped, looking at the small girl sleeping in the crib. She was a beautiful, nearly perfect thing. _Nearly_ perfect, because of the small amount of hair on her head.

Ginger hair.

He reached out a hand, tracing a line on Jessica's cheek.

He told Hermione the truth when he said he didn't remember anything he saw as a ghost, but he still remembered everything that came before and after.

He remembered the fear he felt for Hermione when Meg attacked her. He remembered how he felt when Azazel nearly killed him and he thought he'd never get the chance to tell Hermione how he really felt. He remembered how relieved he felt when he woke up to see her at his bedside.

He lost his chance with her – that much was clear. He was happy for her, he really was. After all, he was the one who told her she should forget about him and move on and, apparently, she did – even if not the way he thought she would.

He took another look at Jessica Rose. It was clear to him from the moment he heard the name that it was Hermione's tribute to Jess, her friend and Sam's love, whom he only met once before her death.

Even though he never saw the appeal in newborn babies, who usually looked like a particularly fat worm and cried way too much, he couldn't deny the fact that Hermione's baby was different.

She had her mother's shape of lips and petite nose, though they looked odd on the foreign face structure, probably her father's. Her eyes were different in shape, as well, but their color was the exact shade of Hermione's chocolate-brown. And even though her hair was red, upon a closer look you could already see how curly and thick it would be one day.

If the girl was lucky, her hair wouldn't be quite as bushy, but Dean was certain that she, like her mother, would manage to pull it off beautifully. He never minded Mya's mane of curls, especially when she was in a particularly good mood and allowed him to run his hands through it, back when they were young.

Back before he had messed up.

He thought things would be simple. He thought he would despise Jessica Rose, but no matter how hard he tried – and he had tried very, _very_ hard, he just couldn't bring himself to hate her.

It didn't make any sense to him, and yet it did. The girl was a living, breathing proof that Hermione had sex with Ron – AKA, a guy that wasn't him. He simply didn't count on that proof being so sweet, so beautiful, so… everything he saw in Hermione. He could never hate her, if only because she reminded him of his childhood friend so much.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't hate Ron either.

At first, the two men clashed – as was expected when there was a pretty girl and testosterone together in a small space – but the red haired one of the duo quickly made it clear that he had no intentions towards Hermione beyond sharing custody over their child. That led to Dean realizing they may never be _friends_, but they sure weren't enemies.

It also helped that Bobby seemed to hate Ron, a fact that surprised both Sam and Hermione as the two used to get along almost perfectly. Dean, however, seemed to understand it in a weird sort of way.

After all, there was now a living, breathing proof that Hermione had sex with Ron – AKA, a _guy_. And as it had already been established that it was impossible to hate Jessica Rose, Bobby turned his feelings at Ron's direction.

Dean was in a more complicated situation.

He couldn't hate Jessica Rose, since she was too perfect. He no longer hated Ron, since the two of them reached an understanding. And he didn't think it was physically possible for him to hate Hermione since she was, well… she was his Mya.

Added by his father's recent death, which was accompanied by his warning regarding Sam and a fair amount of survivor's guilt, Dean had a lot of pent up emotion.

Hermione tried to get him to talk about it once or twice, but he pushed her away. He wasn't the 'Talking About Feeling' type of guy, and she seemed to understand it since she backed off – not too far away that she wouldn't know if there was anything wrong, but enough that he could have all the space he needed.

He thought that was what he wanted, but he was wrong. He didn't want space, that only made him direct all of the anger towards himself. He wanted Mya.

But he couldn't have Mya.

Sighing to himself and rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks, Dean headed back down to the kitchen, where a fourth glass of Scotch waited for him.

It wasn't ideal – if anything, it was the exact _opposite_ of ideal – but it was the only thing he knew how to do.

So it had to be enough.

* * *

**A/N#2:**** So, that was the first chapter after a really long break. Not sure when will I update next, but hopefully it will be in less than nine months.**

**And now for something really important: I am so damn broke. I don't have a penny to my name, and it reached the point where I had to cancel on my sister on a girls' day out because I couldn't even afford going to a nice restaurant with her.**

**So I decided to go through my old folder of fanfics I never started uploading and chose one to post on .**

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**The link is ****www . user ? ty = h &amp; u = 2742465 (delete the spaces) and, again, any amount will be amazing.**

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**Thank you for reading this, and until next time!**

**~mlr96**


	34. The Roadhouse

**A/N:**** Sorry about the double upload, my computer is giving me hell... And, once again, there are no words to explain how sorry I am for this wait... And, honestly, I don't have an excuse other than rl, so...**

**While I was gone, this story amazingly reached and passed the 1K followers milestone, so I'd like to point out WinterElly, who was the 1,000th (!) follower of this story. Although you are all amazing and this wouldn't have happened without each and every one of you! I never imagined this story would be so popular when I started writing it...**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

August 2006.

"Here," Ellen said, handing Hermione a folder. "What d'you think?"

Hermione looked at the files in the folder, thinking for a moment. It described what seemed to be a couple of vampire attacks in LA, that much was clear. She knew what Ellen was asking – the same thing she's been asking about the past four folders she handed her.

Magic or Hunter?

"This one seems like one of yours," she finally said. "Our sort of vamps like secluded places. Doesn't seem very likely one of them would end up in a big city like LA."

"What about this one?" Ellen asked, taking the folder from Hermione's hands and replacing it with a new one.

"Definitely magic," Hermione muttered, looking at the biting marks the victim of the unfortunate attack had on nearly every visible part of his body. "The only thing I've ever known to do something like this – other than a werewolf – is a Crup, and we're nowhere near the full moon. There'll be a lot of damage control here," she added to herself. "This Crup belongs to a wizard, and he should have known better than to let him loose…"

She put the folder next to her, and looked at Ellen. "Anything else?" she asked.

"One last thing," Ellen said, pulling out another folder. "Honestly, I don't even know where to start on –"

She paused mid-sentence, and Hermione listened carefully to hear what the other woman noticed. There was a series of _'clicks'_ before a door opened, and Hermione slowly pulled out her wand.

"_Homenum Revelio," _she whispered, and two bright flickers of light came from the top of her wand. "Someone broke in."

"I could have told you that without all of this," Ellen whispered back, nodding at Hermione's wand. "Did this Hocus Pocus tell you _who_ broke in, by any chance?"

"Since when are things ever that simple?" Hermione questioned. "All I know is that there's two of them," she said, as the glow in her wand brightened. "And that one of them is headed here."

Ellen's hand was ready with the gun before Hermione even noticed the older woman pulled it out, and she headed forwards, quickly aiming it at the head of the person who walked through the door, causing the man to raise his hands in surrender.

"Don't shoot!" he quickly said, and Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized the voice. "Please, don't shoot."

"Sammy?" she asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione?" Sam asked, his eyes darting towards her.

"Put that gun down, Ellen," Hermione sighed, walking towards the two and smacking Sam over the head. "Why the hell did you break in here? Ellen could have shot you!"

"Sam," Dean's voice came from the other room. "I need some help in here!"

"And that would be Dean," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she walked into the other room to see Dean holding his nose and Jo pointing a rifle at him. "Put that down," she said. "These are Dean and Sam, they're John's boys. And as hard as it may be to believe it, they're friendly."

"Dean?" Jo asked, slowly lowering her rifle. "_The_ Dean?"

"Apparently so," Dean said, smiling as much as he could with his bruised nose.

"Lucky thing I already punched you, then," Jo told him, not even bothering to fake a smile.

"I'm Ellen," Ellen said as she entered the room, her face breaking into a small smile. "This over there is my daughter, Jo."

"Hey," Jo said, nodding at them.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asked. "I gotta admit, I have some bad history with Hermione's friends and hits to my face."

"Haven't decided yet," Jo replied, before rolling her eyes at the look Hermione gave her. "Fine. I'll go get something for your nose."

"What are you two doing here?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms and Ellen sighed.

"Let's take a sit," she offered, marking at the chairs next to them.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other before nodding, both of them actively avoiding looking at Hermione.

"Well?" the witch asked as Jo returned with a towel filled with ice and handed it to Ellen, who gave it to Dean. "Do you have any explanation as to why you broke in here? Any at all?"

"Ellen…" Dean started, looking at the older woman. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well," Ellen started slowly, "The demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks once more before Dean spoke again.

"Was there an article in Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" he asked. "I mean, who are you? How do you know this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen said, raising her hands as if to defend herself. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again."

"By now and again, she means all the time," Hermione commented. "This woman knows almost as much as my dad when it comes to what's going on with hunters."

"Shut up," Ellen said, rolling her eyes. "Your dad used to pass by, too, a long time ago," she said, turning back to Dean. "John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean questioned. "How come he's never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that," Ellen said, and Hermione swallowed hard as she realized neither Ellen nor Jo knew anything about what happened the night Jessica-Rose was born.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked.

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen said. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass. But John wouldn't have sent you if…" she trailed off, noticing the identical looks on Dean, Sam and Hermione's faces. "He didn't send you," she said in realization. "He's all right, isn't he?"

The silence that followed her question lasted for several long moments before Hermione decided to break it. "No," she said, making Ellen turn her head to look at her. "No, he isn't."

"It was the demon, we think," Sam said. "It just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen said.

"It's okay," Dean said. "We're all right."

"I know how close you and your dad –"

"Really, lady," Dean cut Ellen off. "I'm fine."

"So look," Sam started carefully, "If you can help… we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen told him. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked, confused.

"Oi, Ash!" Hermione called out. "Get your arse up here!"

"Os that a yes?" the man who was, up until now, sleeping on the pool table called out as he woke up.

"In your dreams!"

"That's Ash?" Sam asked, looking between him and Hermione in disbelief.

"He's a genius," Jo added, and Hermione couldn't help but smile.

* * *

About ten minutes and two cups of coffee later for Ash, he sat next to the boys, Dean dropping the file John had about Yellow Eyes on the table before looking at him with undisguised disdain.

"You gotta be kidding," he said. "He's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

"I like you," Ash stated.

"Thanks," Dean replied, though it was clear he couldn't care less what the other man thought of him.

"Can see why Herms likes you, too."

"Just give him a chance," Hermione said, choosing to ignore the way both Dean and Sam mouthed the nickname, knowing it will get back on her soon.

"All right," Dean sighed, sitting down. "This stuff's a year's worth of our dad's work, so… let's see what you make of it."

Ash smiled smugly before taking the files closer to him, looking through them. Slowly, the smile drifted off his face and he looked up.

"Come on," he said in disbelief. "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody that can track a demon like this."

"Our dad could," Sam said simply.

"These are nonparametric statistical overviews," Ash said. "Cross-spectrum correlations. I mean damn... They're signs," he explained. "Omens. If you can track them, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Ash nodded. "With this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh…" he thought for a couple of seconds. "Give me 51 hours. 52, if Herms finally says 'yes'."

"Shut up and go to your room," Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples.

"Only if you say it with your sexy accent," Ash told her, before hurrying to his room as he saw the deadly look Hermione gave him.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked Hermione as soon as Ash was out of sight. "You have a kid to take care of but all you do is mess around with _this guy_?"

"First of all, Jessica-Rose is at Ron's, as you know very well since you were there when he came to pick her up last night," Hermione said. "Second of all, in case it wasn't clear enough from the way I was seconds away from slapping him, I have never – nor will I ever – slept with Ash. And, third of all," she said, her voice rising as she stood up, "My life is none of your damn business. You don't own me, and you have no say on whether or not I sleep with someone."

"You have a kid to look out for!" Dean called out.

"Yes, a kid who is now safely with her father and grandparents halfway across the globe!" Hermione called out. "You made it very clear you don't want to be involved in my love life, so you have no right to judge me – especially not about things I haven't done!"

With that, she turned around and walked over to Jo, ignoring the three people who stayed by the bar as she started speaking to her friend.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Sam asked. "Even a blind and deaf person could have realized there was nothing going on between the two of them."

"She was flirting back!" Dean said angrily.

"No, she didn't," Ellen said. "She never does. And, even if she was," she added before Dean could add another word, "She's right. You're the one who broke up with her. You're the one who told her that the two of you could never have worked."

"Well, it's true!"

"Is it?" Sam asked. "You didn't see her after that, Dean. I did. It took her months to move on and, even then, she wasn't the same."

"Even as a teenager, you were all she ever talked about," Ellen said. "When Bobby left her here when he went on hunts, she'd go hours and hours talking about you with Jo. Now, I could understand if you broke up with her cause you didn't feel anything for her," she added. "But judging from the jealous rage we just saw, this isn't the case.

"So here's what you're gonna do," she said in a non-nonsense voice that made it clear he had no option but to listen to her. "You're either gonna let her go and allow her to live her life, or you're gonna grow a pair and ask her out, begging she'll forgive you for breaking up with her in the first place. But stop acting like a little kid throwing an anger fit whenever she's near. Make up your damn mind!"

"She's right, you know," Sam said. "You can't keep going the way you have so far. This isn't healthy for neither of you."

"You know what?" Dean asked. "The last thing I need is relationship advices from you two!"

"Really?" Sam asked. "Have you even noticed Hermione left the bar?"

Dean's head spun around to look at where Hermione stood just a couple of minutes ago. Instead of seeing her standing there and talking to Jo, he saw the blonde cleaning table with no bushy-haired witch in sight.

He sighed, all of the fight leaving him at once. There will never be a day when he _doesn't_ screw things up with Hermione, will there?

* * *

_**Unbeta'd**_


	35. Beck and Call

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

September 2006.

"What – the – bloody – hell – were – you – thinking?"

"Ow, ow, Hermione, alright –"

"No – it's – not – alright – you – bloody –"

"Can you please stop hitting me?"

"No!"

They were at the Roadhouse, and Dean and Sam came back from a hunt to find a furious Hermione waiting for them. Furious, since they let Jo join them on the hunt.

"We didn't know she was going to be there, too!" Dean protested, trying to move out of Hermione's reach only to be blocked by several tables.

"Then – you – should – have – sent – her – home – the – moment – she – arrived," Hermione told him, empathizing every word with a smack to Dean's head, shoulders, chest, and pretty much every other available surface. "Or – tell – Ellen – when – she – bloody – asked! Not – make – her – bait!"

"Jo found this case, she wanted to be a part of it," Sam tried, only for Hermione to turn to look at him.

"Oh, don't you start, Sam Winchester!" she warned. "Cause if you don't think that the moment I'm done with him, I'm moving to you, you are _so_ wrong! She could have died! Or worse!"

"Expelled?" Dean joked, but the smile fell off his face the moment Hermione redirected her rage back at him. "I don't understand what the big deal is. She did just fine."

"What if she hadn't?" Hermione asked. "What if something would have happened to her? What if you hadn't reached her in time?"

"Then that's a risk of the job, isn't it?" Jo asked.

"Oh, don't start –"

"No!" Jo called out. "Don't try patronizing me like this, especially not when you go hunting all the time."

"I also involuntarily became a part of a war when I was fifteen, do you really want to start talking about this?"

"Yes, actually, I do!"

"Fine, then go inside, talk to your mom, see what you have to say then!"

"Hermione…" Ellen started, making the witch turn to look at her.

"I get it," she said, "She's your daughter and you want to protect her. But if you don't take her inside right now and tell her, she'll just keep running off to do stupid jobs like this –"

"We saved a woman's life today!" Jo protested. "_I_ saved a woman's life today."

"No," Hermione replied. "You nearly died today." She turned to look at Dean and Sam. "And if she really would have died today, it would have been on _your_ conscious."

"Funny," Dean huffed, "Cause that's the exact same thing Bobby told me after we got back from clearing that nest the summer after your fourth year."

"Jo," Ellen said quickly. "Come inside."

It was a testament to how tense the situation got that Jo didn't even protest, hurrying away from the argument that was going on.

"I was a kid back then," Hermione said, a dark expression crossing her face. "I was young, and naïve –"

"Oh, don't give me that crap," Dean said, shaking his head. "You were never naïve. You were just sick of sitting around doing nothing while people got hurt, and you know what?" he added before she could protest. "You're still the same."

"No, I'm not!" Hermione called out.

"Yes, you are!" Dean called back. "You say that Jo shouldn't have come with us because she had her mom worrying about her, well, what about your dad? What about your kid, what would happen to her if you didn't come back from a hunt one day?"

"Will you stop bringing my daughter into every argument we have?" Hermione questioned. "Don't start getting involved in my life, not after you've made it clear – on more than one occasion – that you have no interest in being a part of it!" She shook her head, turning away go hide her tears. "Just… just leave me alone, Dean," she said. "Leave me alone, leave my family alone and for crying out loud, leave my friends alone."

"Mya…"

"Don't, Sam," she said. "Just don't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork that I couldn't do until now because I was too busy worrying if one of my best friends was dead."

She closed her eyes, turning on the spot and Appariting away to her office. She barely had a moment to recollect herself before someone knocked on the door and she wiped away her tears before calling for whoever it was to enter.

Her secretary popped her head into the room, seemingly taking in her appearance before speaking.

"Just reminding you that you have a meeting with Kook today at ten, and that you need to get all of the paperwork about the Jameson mission ready until then if you want him to approve it," she said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Hermione said, hating that her voice gave away that she wasn't okay. "I'm fine," she repeated, a bit more convincingly this time.

"If you say so," the other woman shrugged. "I'll move your appointment with Alex to tomorrow, anyway. I know dealing with him gives you a headache."

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, looking at the pile of papers on her table.

Even years after they broke up, Dean Winchester kept being an annoying part of her life, disrupting her every step. Well, this was the last time. Next time he got in trouble, she wouldn't be there to help him.

Good luck solving his problems on his own.

* * *

October 2006.

It was barely a month before Hermione broke her promise to never help Dean with his problems again.

"Fucking…" Hermione muttered as she stumbled out of her bed, heading to the kitchen to check which of the wards was set off. "At two in the morning? Really? What could possibly be…?"

She paused, staring at the glowing bracelet that was placed there – an identical one to a bracelet she gave Dean back when they were still dating. She told him to pass his finger against one of the runes cared onto it if he was ever in trouble, and that she'd come to help him.

Back then, he laughed and said he'd be alright. But now, as the bracelet produced more and more light, she knew he wasn't just in trouble – his life was in immediate danger.

Later, she'll be mad at herself for not even hesitating before grabbing the bracelet and activating the portkey-charm she placed on it.

When she landed, she blinked, surprised at finding herself in the middle of a clearing in the woods and yet not completely surprised at seeing a man holding Dean at gunpoint. It didn't seem like he noticed her presence yet so she pulled out her wand, nearing him carefully.

"Let's talk about this," Dean said, "You don't wanna do something you're gonna regret." The other man – who now Hermione recognized held a police gun and a badge – readjusted his aim. "Or maybe you do."

"Step back," Hermione warned, holding her wand tightly in her hand and making the man turn to look at her with surprise, though he still didn't put the gun down. "I said step down. Before you force me to do something I _won't_ regret."

"Pete," a new voice called out and both Hermione and Dean turned to see a woman walking towards them, gun in hand and Sam in toe. "Put the gun down."

"Diana?" Pete asked. "How'd you find me?"

"I know about Claire," Diana said, making Hermione send a confused glance at Sam direction.

He mouthed that he'll explain later and Hermione turned her attention back to the two cops.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pete said.

"Gun," Hermione repeated, aiming her wand right at him. "Down."

"Oh, I don't think so," Pete almost laughed. "What are you going to do? Poke me to death?"

"I just might," Hermione replied. "But, no, I think I'll just do this."

With two sharp strikes of her wand, she created a barrier between Pete and Dean and disarmed the cop. He looked at her, shocked, but she leaned next to Dean who, as she now saw, was in shackles.

"Really?" she muttered as she tapped her wand against the handcuffs, freeing Dean's hands. "You were going to shoot an unarmed, bound man? Who'd have known even dirty cops don't have any values nowadays?"

"What…" Diana looked even more shocked than she was before, if it was possible. "Anything else you'd like to tell me?" she asked Sam. "Who the hell is she?"

"Hermione Singer," Hermione introduced herself. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but, considering the circumstances…"

"Hermione Singer?" Pete repeated. "Like in the Harry Potter books?"

"Not _like_," Hermione replied. "The very same. Now, hold still."

She waved her wand once to make the cuffs that were on Dean up until now transfer to him before muttering _'Obliviate'_ and changing his memories of the meeting. When she was done, she glanced at Diana.

"He won't remember me being here," she said. "So make sure not to mention that in your files. And give him this right before you walk into the police station," she added, handing the other woman a bottle of Veritaserum. "Official version's gonna be he was overwhelmed with guilt over the thought of an innocent man going to jail for the crimes he committed, so he drove here and set Dean free before calling you to confess. Should make sure you don't get in trouble for anything and that Dean and Sam could walk away."

"But…"

"Take it, detective," Hermione said harshly. "From what I've seen from his memories, he deserves far worse than a lifetime in jail, and you could both get into a lot of trouble if people knew about your relationship. Sam, Dean," she added. "A word."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, pulling her into a short hug.

"Dean used his bracelet," Hermione said. "I considered ignoring it but I knew his ego's too big to actually ask for help unless he was on the verge of dying. _Especially_ at two in the morning."

"Thanks for coming, by the way," Dean said. "Really saved my ass down there."

"Don't think Dad would have ever let it go if I didn't come here to save your sorry ass," Hermione muttered bitterly. "Any other loose ends you need me to tie up or are you actually capable of handling your own problems?"

Both Dean and Sam looked down, more than a bit embarrassed.

"The cops took Baby," Dean muttered, and Hermione sighed.

"I'll find her for you, but after that you're on your own. Anything else?"

"No," he replied. "Just… thank you again for coming. It means a lot to me."

"It should," Hermione muttered. "I'll text you Baby's address when I find her. Goodbye."

And with that, she Apparated away.

Once she was back at her apartment, after finding Baby and notifying Dean and Sam of the car's location, she sighed and poured herself a generous glass of Firewhiskey.

She didn't know why she was doing this to herself. She didn't know why she was letting him use her like that, when she didn't get anything in return but heartache.

More than all, she didn't know what was it about Dean Winchester that could make her be on his beck and call, popping to help him whenever he needed while he still treated her the way he did, and that made her not care one bit about it.

* * *

**A/N:**** And I'm back! At least for one chapter though I'm hoping to get more done in the coming weeks. I probably won't go back to updating once a week just yet, but at least the story's moving along with a general idea of what I'm gonna do until the end of SPN's Season 2.**

**Tell me what you think about it :)  
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**~mlr96**


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